There’s thunder in my veins,
In between the heavy rains.
The throbbing of the crashing water
Still lingers in my head.

I hold my sweater closely,
Feeling the frigid ice still cling.
I wade through silvering water
And hear his voice again.

I hold the buttercup in my hand,
Between tightening, sore fingers.
I feel its bud now hit my palm,
In the shaky breaths of wind.

I look in his blue eyes for answers,
And watch his clementine hair like Monarch wings.
My heart is broken and swollen,
Just like from the pains of a bee sting.

And the lightening flashes before us,
A streak of pink, deep in the Appalachian clouds.
I hear still the rumbling in the east,
As I’m swallowing the word, “I must go.”

Because there’s thunder in my veins,
In between the heavy rains.
The throbbing of the crashing water
Still burns my heart.