The smell of raindrops in a mid-June day,
the fragrant grass encircling us.
It comes with the chaos of the perfect storm,
which all remind me of our teenage love.
Years might have passed,
loves have come and gone.
But every time it rains,
my mind is again yours.
The fiction books you brought to me,
the theater sits where once we kissed.
They all have passion for life inscribed,
they can’t obscure our first true love.
