The first drops of a summer thunderstorm
Roll off my battered old trench coat
The doors and windows are open to the wind
Clearing the black smoke from the air
You've been playing with your toys again
Building robots from magnets in old TVs
The storm builds outside the empty windows
As your Frankenstein creation limps
Across the workshop's black-tiled floor
Your messy hair is wrapped around two pens
With curls about your soot-smirched face
And it is that face that holds me there
In the power-charged pre-storm moment
To watch your simple joy in your creation
And with the first near-sounding thunderclap
I enter the now-cluttered workshop
Pulling your creative form close to me
Listen to your joyful bubbling words
Until your happy chatter fades away
And the storm now pounds above us
Stripping off our heavy clothes we walk
Into the hot-pouring rain of summer
Hand in hand through the fierce joy
To an open spot between the trees nearby
We turn our faces up to feel the power
Surging to the ground beneath our feet
Laughing the giddy laugh of the free