Here Comes the Rain

...and not a space was left in the sky that was empty of the pouring rain. I was standing out of reach for fear of the dreaded being wet, but the wind knew better my needs and shifted so that the rain could catch my gaze. It touched my face so softly with a thousand fingers to discover every contour. And every part of me. Hands and feet. Shoulder and knee. Good heavens breathe. The rain--chill, fresh, clean--cured me of this heat. And still it rises. Apart of me. How easily I steam. Always it rises. Here comes the rain to balance and sate this desire ignited...by you.