Spring rain has a way of seeping under my skin. It gets to my core and makes me miss you. Unexpected clouds cover what was just a few hours ago a transparent sky, bringing with it a permeating darkness. A sudden rainstorm and I'm caught without an umbrella. There is no choice now but to walk on, one foot in front of the other, by-passing the freshly-filled puddles. The piegons I pass look cold and uncomfortable, their feathers poufed and ruffled. I can't wait to get home and throw off the wet layers which stick to my skin, slowly, piece by piece. But I want to take the long way back. I like to think of you and long, careless sunny days. The lingering kisses and the soft-spoken words. The slushing feeling in my shoes brings me back there, there where I am dry.