Hope

John Muir

To my future person…

I hope you love the rain

the way I do,

not just the soft kind,

but the wild, restless storms,

where thunder speaks in the dark

and lightning writes across the sky.

As we open the window

just enough to let the night in,

the cool air brushing against us

as we lie tangled together,

silent… but saying everything.

A single candle flickers,

painting warmth across your face,

while we drift closer

nose to nose,

forehead to forehead,

breathing the same quiet moment.

Your lips find mine,

soft, unhurried,

like time has nowhere else to be.

But here, with you and I.

And as the rain keeps falling,

steady, endless,

we fall too

into sleep,

into each other,

into something that feels like home.