Sometimes, nostalgic with the smell of rain
I look back twenty years in time, and find...
A little child stares at the thickly clouded sky
From his terrace in the cool morning breeze,
Little hands waving to the rushing clouds
And his young voice filled
With wonder on the coming of the first rain
And pure innocent delight

It's been twenty years - I lost him there in rain
Moving ahead through seasons and years.
Still, often in the coming of rain, I find...
Invisible little hands tugging at my adult fingers
And the long distance of twenty years
Disappearing in a handful of moments
Of childlike ecstasy
And pure innocent delight
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