Droplet

A poem about moving on and remembering the old days.

Droplet

Tracing the water droplet
on the car window slowly
curve its way up to the
top, joining the other drops
of rain, your brethren.

I used to imagine that rain drop was you,
gliding and ascending up to
‘heaven’, where all our friends
can be joined together, except me.

I see you like a shooting star
grow smaller and smaller, until
you reach our friends and
together, you all can make the
the trek to the top.

I know the idea was silly.
But I was young and somehow,
having that notion to
cling onto made the rain
all the more special.

Like it still is now.