Happy Rain

It was pouring out, and he asked me to dance in the rain with him.  Is it even necessary to write how my heart skipped with those words?  Splashing in the puddles with this blue eyed man.  Even though he was miles away, I could see his wet shirt plastered to the chest I love to place my hands on, and that I love to rest my head.

His smile from the restaurant is stuck in my mind.  I don't think that I've ever really been able to picture someone's face so clearly except if they were a character from a book, then I have a very detailed picture of exactly what they look like.  He says that he's a figment of my imagination.  I just hope it's not true.

I don't want him in my imagination.  I want him in my life.