He would have blue eyes.

. Eyes not blue like the rain but darker because when it rains the sky gets dark. His voice would be smooth but slightly rough around the edges, and of course loud because the lightening is immaculate and thunder threateningly loud. He would stand in the rain but he wouldn’t be wet, only cold. Not cold like something is cold after being wet once but coldness in its original, raw form.

He would look at me.

That day, with him standing there and looking at me, not avoiding my gaze, not trying to pretend I don’t exist for him, but truly looking at me, into my eyes, he would smile. I would smile back and take one step towards him. He will extend his hand and I will walk closer and take it.

That is when I will dance. Dance not in the rain this time but with Rain.

I will wait, I must

It will rain eventually for me

Then you shall be mine