I watched as rain levelled the river
in a light, strange grey, echoing the
damp, hard to define colour of sky.
Under my umbrella I remained
dry, but increasingly cold; soaked in
misery more chilling than water;
allowing the spirit of leaving
water to slide away with my heart,
all on the off-chance that you might be
passing and notice the fluttering.
Notice and reach out through the strangeness,
wherever it is that passing hearts fly.