Storms

Whenever a storm approaches

I think of you

And pull out that old picture

That I keep close to my heart

The edges are weathered and torn

The image itself is old and faded

As I look at it

A sad smile creeps on my face

As I caress your image

With my finger

As I have through out the years

I remember your hair

Was like dark rich coffee

And smelled of fresh pine trees

Your eyes full of turbulence

Much like the storms

We loved to watch

And always brewing with mischief

Your hands were strong and steady

But could make my head spin

Like a whirlwind

When you held me close

The rain starts to fall

And so do my tears

Of missing you