Gazing out upon a typical late autumn, English day;
wet leaves blowing... hard rain driving; ragged clouds... a dismal grey.
Idly watching raindrops trace a pathway down the window pane;
wondering if, by some sweet chance, our paths will ever cross again.

The rain, it is my ally... a true friend, whose help, I can enlist
to hide my secret tears; when, by the raindrops, my face has been kissed.
So nobody can recognise the hidden heart-break, or the pain;
if asked, then I can just reply...
"Oh, I was caught out in the rain."

Although it may be dull and dreary on the street, where I can see
grey people with grey faces, and grey attitudes; that's not for me;
and, though the cold rain lashes down from out a fragile, lead-grey sky...
it holds a melancholy beauty for those who dream, like you, and I.

And, dreaming is all there can be, when you, sweet love, are far away.
It doesn't matter what the weather does; it's always sad and grey.
And yet, when I remember all those sunny days I shared with you
I think... above those lead-grey clouds, the sky is still a brilliant blue.

Perhaps, one day we'll meet again; and those dark clouds will roll away,
and we will walk once more in sunshine, on a cloud free, bright blue day;
but, for now... I watch the raindrops shimmering in front of me;
mirroring the tears that trickle down my cheeks so quietly.