Rhythm of the rain

Sitting in my room listening
To the rhythm of the rain
Your downstairs lost in a story of someone elses pain
The wind whistles through
The crack underneath the door
I feel the chill as i walk barefoot across the floor
I stumble to the kitchen for
Something to warm the chill
Making my way across the room i rest my cup on the window sill
I turn and catch your eyes as they look up from the page
No words are spoken it seems silence has set the stage
The rain starts to slow, still the rhythm doesnt change
I stare off in the distance and wonder are the stories the same?