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There was rain in the trees

And the branches were moving

And he said lets hide and he

Disappeared into the branches

But I could still see him a white

Shape with smears of mud

And his hand come out and it

Touched me and it was cold

And my cold dress clung at me

And the doves clattered away

So I come out of the rain

And the quiet was roaring and

A branch come up and wet us

And I called out and hung

On his neck and I touched his

Face and I was frightened

And then we broke and I saw

He wasn't looking at me at all

He just looked out at the rain

And down at the grit and the

Earth and I said don't, don't.