Asking Raindrops

It fell... but it wasn’t asked if it was ready. Because clouds don’t say goodbye, they just let go. And I wonder if the raindrop ever loved the cloud that held it too long, just enough to mistake it for forever. Does it feel betrayed by the sky that cradled it, and then forgot? Or does it understand that falling was always part of being held? So, I ask the rain, "Do you ever wish you could fly back up... before the falling, before the feeling?" It doesn’t answer. Just touches my cheek so softly, I pretend it’s not a tear