April showers bring May flowers,

so in the desert we make do,

mascara rain and broken things,

girl-turned-thunderstorm,

planting tears like prose across the back of each hand

where they ripple between shaking breaths.

She is ugly when she cries,

like the clouds this time of year,

but nothing grows from nothing,

and to water dreams with grief

is better than watering them with nothing at all.

The rain poured down the windows. I stared out at the muddy yard. It had been raining for two weeks straight. The flowers were wilted and the tree branches droop.

I sighed, and murmured, "Oh, John! I miss you so much! When will you come back to me?"

A single tear ran down my cheek, and I brushed it away with the back of my hand.

"The world," I whispered, "Is hopeless! If this goes on, I may cast myself off of a cliff, to perish."

Drawing my shawl closer around my shoulders, I placed my palms against the cool, wet glass of the window.

"John? Will you ever return to me?" I exclaimed softly, "I love you, John! I was wrong! I shouldn't have said those wicked, wicked things!"

A few more tears coursed down my cheeks. My lip quivered as my unseeing eyes stared out at the rain. Suddenly, desperation set in:

"JOHN!!!" I screamed wildly, "COME BACK!"

The door behind me opened slowly, and a girl's young face appeared.

"Anna? Why are you yelling? Mom wants you to wash the dishes after you finish your homework."

I flung of the shawl in a hurry and complained with a frown, "Tracy! You interrupted me!"

"Yeah? Whatever. Who's John?"

"He's my lover, and he has left me."

Tracy's eyebrows shot up as she stared at me.

"Okay...anyway, Mom wants you to do the dishes."

As Tracy closed the door she finished with, "Maybe you shouldn't read so many romance novels..."

"Ugh," I said grumpily, as I dropped onto my bed, "What else is there to do with all this rain, anyway?"