April Showers

Stretched out on the couch, she thinks she hears each
drop as it splashes against the porch rail.
Is she listening for more than the rain?
Not that she would admit to anyone.

She relaxes into the memories,
his hands become liquid heat, each stroke and
each caress a sensation pouring down
the length of her body like a spring storm.

Her chest hammers with each clap of thunder;
the rumble burrowing deep inside.
A reminder of passion kept waiting
for that moment, his touch …no longer hers.

Highlighted by lightning flashes outside,
the April showers wash away the past.