Pitter patter

Pitter, patter the rain starts to drop. While the water may fill up the hole in the ground it will never fill up the hole in one's heart. The droplet trickling down his cheek flows to his heart, and while that may create a ripple, it will never become his tears. He runs, faster than anyone, to race through the present to search for the past left behind, towards divinity. He wished the rain to fall even harder swallowing everything like a muddy stream. His conscious and subconscious both wanted to move forward, to see her again, to hold her hand again.

The girl too, ran through the drizzle. Water dripped down her skirt. She trampled, fell into the muddy stream the boy had walked through. She knew they were close yet so far.

Neither could he see her nor could she see him but despite this tragedy the rain; it fell
pitter patter pitter patter.