Waiting for rain

I can feel it. I can feel the raindrops kissing my skin. Making its way to any open slivers peeking out from under my bundled layers. The winds whisper against my cheeks turning them rosy almost as if I'm blushing from the persistence of the cold. It numbs me. All I can feel is the constant chill that becomes expected. The drops make their journey from high up to the cold concrete. Hard. Like every single breathing living moment that has to be lived. I can forget. When I'm in the sea of tears from the sky i can forget about everything that is happening around me. I forget the pain. I forget the sadness. I forget the worry. I just take in the smells and thoughts. I can concentrate all the little creatures in my mind towards making passageways around the water puddles and treks over the muddy bumps. I can let my mind wander about all the what ifs and if there are garden fairies hiding under leaves to keep dry. If maybe they're spreading fairy dust everywhere to enlighten the youngens minds and lead to hours of splashing in puddles with a sparkle in their eyes. The child in me creates and imagines and wonders. Creates plans about crusades and maps for adventures and stories about knights in shining armor battling the flaming dragons who are covered in green emerald glass scales. Mermaids who swim for hours under the sea unnoticed by the naked eye, hidden by the jeweled raindrops crashing against the harsh waves. And then it stops. The rain stops. The ideas stop. The childlike happiness is diminshed. Broken. Forgotten. Waiting for the next storm to brew to liven the waves.