Rainy Days – WILLIAM GENSBURGER

Rainy Days
by William Gensburger


I don’t believe it was nothing, he said.
Somehow things had changed.
One moment, so much a part of everything
and the next, so far removed.
It was as if she had never been there at all.

It was, he thought,
Like a breeze after a storm,
when you only remember the
freshness of the air,
wondering what had brought clouds
into an otherwise perfect day.
And wishing it had never started raining.