The rain taps gently on the tin roof,
a soft rhythm echoing in my chest.
I speak your name in silent prayer,
hoping the lift will carry my words,
to where you stand, waiting.
The metal doors remain closed,
the air thick with paused moments.
I imagine your face, eyes searching,
for answers in the patter of rain,
as if each drop holds a secret.
Time stretches, a gentle embrace,
holding us in its quiet hands.
I repeat, I repeat your name,
letting it float like a prayer,
until the world whispers back.