The Words!

When it rains on my windowsill,
I cannot help but watch,
The glassy drops splatter.
Greedily, I watch their ecstasy.

Because I can’t get enough,
Of that slither-up-the-spine,
Burst of nervous bliss,
That sustains me.

And the words!
The moist, succulent plums,
And slick, pink conch depths-
Of our words. I could die.

So, I wait.
Not quite patiently,
For a time when our words,
Will reenact my raindrops.