The days grow shorter, and the nights grow longer, yet Winter refuses to come. It's raining in December, yet no one sees anything wrong. The temperature rises, and the snow turns to rain. The train pulls in, and you're late again. What happened to our Summer romance? What happened to the Spring? I though once November came, I'd be seeing you again. Yet instead all I do, is wait around, wait around, for you.
My once warm bed has grown cold again, your spot no longer there. Bed-sheets over your pillow, your smell no longer lingers there. I don't know when you'll come back, or if you even will. It just seems like this rain, is all thats left of you. Without the winter, without the snow. You're gone. To where? I'll never know.
The trains pull in, and they pull out. The whistle blows, the wind too. I'm so cold, waiting for you. Each day at one, I come to the station. Hoping you'll get off the train. Yet each day is another disappointment, you've not come back, the trains just go through.
Morning on December 1st, I've given up on you. Yet, the rain has stopped. There's snow. Glorious white flakes of snow. The train stops, it's not pulling through. I'm not expecting anything, just some tourists, and maybe a neighbors relative. I stand and turn to walk away, and I hear your voice. "Did you think I'd gone away? I love you too... but the snow up North, wouldn't let me come home to you."
The bed is warm. Your smell, returned. The rain hasn't come again, it's December 25th and Christmas morning. I have no gift, I didn't expect you to come home. A small, brown package lays under the tree. It has a tag, it's for me. I open it up, and its a small frame. A picture of you and I- standing in the rain. I look around to say thank you, yet you're gone. A small white slip falls from the frame, it simply says "Wait for rain."
