When the Sun finally gives up its place in the sky

And the gates of clouds close in

To let the rain pour

When the Sky is no longer content with its outfit

And its forever blue dress

Is stricken by a tint

That makes the world a dream

When the Sea swells

And lets its balanced pride

Fall to the mountains of rain

That patters on its chest

There I will be.

I will be watching from my window, listening to the water tap on the glass like it’s a child trying to show me something, like it had just found snow on Christmas day

I will be in my window, bundled up, watching the people spin their umbrellas and just like that

I am outside, letting the water hit my face and my chest

Feeling the streets and their flowing taps of cobblestone

Watching the puddles that reflect the red lights and turn them into red shots on the ground

Forgetting about what I have to do and where I have to be

Forgetting about everything

Except for where I am,

Watching the rain in San Francisco’s streets