A Conversation About Rain

We sit and scheme, the sky seems

To melt to a pair of honey and rose.

Just above, the spun clouds smudge

While the rest of Tuesday slows.

Scales tip their weight; we tessellate

To a mosaic of stars and carbon.

We discuss and chat while the evening bleeds black –

And while I love you for everything, I adore you for that.

The rain drains roads dry and the falling sky

Ripples into puddles outside; we become the only ones

And we talk about the rain.

Mai Wallace is a Norfolk-based student, writer, butterfly enthusiast etc... Better at writing about her melancholy than she is at writing bios.