As I stood,
raindrops fell atop my lowered head.
As I watched,
drops splashed the concrete,
and puddled in the nearby flower bed.

I could hear every drop,
with the occasional intervention of her voice.
Her words, her whispers.  Her laughter.

I could see her smile in the back of my mind,
could feel her hands on my face.
Each raindrop that rolled down,
rolled over someplace her fingers had traced.

Each drop that fell on my head,
was a kiss that she had given to me,
when she came from behind as I sat.
Quite unexpected, but delightful,
as tender as the gentle brush of a cat.

Then she would stroke my hair...

The rain rolled down from my matted hair.
I could feel almost every drop.
The smell in the air was fresh;
so clean, cool, almost invigorating.

She would stroke it then lean over,
to kiss me on the cheek.
I would turn my head to face her...
she'd smile... kiss me on the lips....

I could taste the rain,
when I opened my mouth to take a deep breath.
It was soothing to my dry mouth.
I tasted the salty drops too....

I raised my head,
To look at her standing before me,
but it only looks like her.

She's not really holding the rose,
I had placed in her hand.
It's not really her presence,
before the place I stand.

Is it?

No.  It just looks like her.

...It just looks like her.