The Weather of Her Soul

She arrives so unexpectedly
as if she's a surprise storm,
that clutches your very inner being
and surrounds you with the weather of her soul.

Or she can drift into your realm
like a fragrance of a faint scent
of a light rain that just has passed.

She does both of these entrances with the ease of the wind,
but even she's not aware of which way she'll join your world...

or why it is, that she always brings the weather of her soul.

Oddly enough, I really care not which way she arrives,
as long as she remembers that without her arrivals
there is no sunshine, no raindrops, and no wind,
to help me feel alive enough to focus on her rainbow.

Hers is a magic that lingers deep inside of me
except for when she fades away, and the quiet of my existence reappears,
and there is but a calm left, that's both satisfying and boring to my soul.

She came to me tonight, as that quiet storm front
bringing neither the rain, or the sunshine of her heart.

But, that's alright. For she did bring the rainbow, from the weather of her soul.