She knows this place.
There she sits,
among the raindrops.
She knows this place.
This is not wrong,
she says to herself,
there is no shame in this.
Some people hate the rain.
But not her.
Not her.
Not ever her.
There are memories here.
She knows rain,
understands rain,
feels rain.
Rain is real,
not painful or judgmental,
only a little wet.
Tears make little difference,
it all becomes rain in the end.
The clouds are grey like stone,
the crowds around her
even more so.
Rain falls down at her ankles,
and she remembers being a child.
Splashing in puddles
she never felt more alive.
The rain shapes her,
outlines her,
and soon it becomes her.
She is more than a girl
in this moment.
She is a smile to be believed,
a heart dancing in rhythm.
She is a raindrop in freefall,
falling,
falling,
falling,
but without the splash.
She is the river of teardrops,
hidden among the rain.
She is a star-crossed destiny,
coming to fruition.
She is a galaxy
converging to a single point.
Finally she understands,
what she has long known to be true.
She is the rain,
and falling is just a side effect
of growing up.