Transition

It's not the rain that I love so much,
Nor the heat of the sun that scorches,
It's the slim transition of weather,
From one extreme to the other,
On a dull, gloomy day, when arrive thin rays,
And the sun brings out his bright face,
Or on a hot, dreary noon,
The sky's filled with dark clouds' bloom,
Which shield the parched ground and evaporating waters,
And bathe me in their first showers,

So is my love for you, my dear,
Intensifying as our separation draws near,
Kindled most intense at the time of farewell,
And the meet after years, when unspoken tears well.

This poem seems to have been inspired by this one by Niharika Anupam, apoet I admire.