Disclaimer: I do not own Scarlet Pimpernel or "Kathy's Song" by Simon and Garfunkel.
I hear the drizzle of the rain.
Like a memory, it falls.
Soft and warm, continuing.
Tapping on my roof and walls.
The weather was gray and damp in Richmond that morning. Light rain was just beginning to fall from the thick clouds that lined the sky. Marguerite's window was open when she awoke.
From the shelter of my mind,
Through the window of my eyes,
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.
The wind blew the silk curtains to and fro. Small droplets of rain blew inside and formed little shining domes on the wood floor, like crystals. She heard the patter of the drizzle on the roof overhead. Everything was calm.
She slid quietly off the bed and strode to the window, treading on the drops of water as she went. She sat at the window-seat, pressing her cheek to the cold glass, gazing out across the garden to the river.
My mind's distracted and diffused.
My thoughts are many miles away.
They lie with you when you're asleep,
And kiss you when you start your day.
How did this happen?
How had she lost him? She knew who he was: he was not…this. He couldn't be. But he seemed like nothing else.
Maybe she didn't know him anymore.
And the song I was writing is left undone.
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.
It had ceased to be true. She couldn't continue to believe it.
She curled up tightly, tucking her knees below her chin. Her breath shook.
So you see, I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true.
I stand alone without beliefs.
The only truth I know is you.
The rain was becoming harder now. The pat-pat above her became more persistent. The fog outside thickened. Marguerite could not see through her tears.
And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die,
I know that I am like the rain.
There but for the grace of you go I.
The rain streaked the windowpane. It hit the roof noisily. She was faced towards the window, the tears sliding down her face. She thought of nothing but the rain. The small drops of water ran down the glass, leaving a faint trail, then finally faded from sight.
She did not notice the open door, and the man who stood there, sadly watching her.
My friend wrote this! (the one who writes the botheration of snape) Enjoy and please review!
