Water falls from nothing.
It meets tin and creates percussion.
The wind picks up.
The leaves sing as they brush together.
Nature's wonderful soundtrack.
Just for us.
Not another soul around.
Just we two.
Dancing alone in the storm.
Except our feet don't move.
Yours dangle from the couch.
Mine are planted on the floor.
Us in a nutshell, really.
Lightning crashes, thunder rolls.
Chaotic solos of the symphony.
You fit so perfectly in my arms.
Your lips were made to be kissed by mine.
The percussion continues, the leaves hit a crescendo.
Your feet slide further up the couch.
Mine join yours.
The couch is our cloud, and we float together.
As if we were gods and this was our Olympus.
We are mortal, but this moment is everlasting.
The rain provides the beat.
The wind provides the chorus.
And we are the audience.
We are the composers.
We are the song.
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