Poem [Untitled]

A fine dusting of rain:
Where were you before?
We'd anticipated your presence
Enjoying the glossy finish of the pavement

Many months I've frowned at sun
Where moody greys could have added texture
Familiar rage in the form of storms
Was not to be

This paltry attempt at precipitation
I squint out my window, but
It's already gone
I'm left to wander - dry and forlorn.