Here is this rain I borrowed from you

You say, Here is this rain I borrowed from you, 
I scratched it though, here is what's due.

I say, Where were you when I was still kind?
You sing and know your limericks are mighty fine.

But I rain, and the door rains, and now is my bed time,
The weather report advised to stay in doors. 

I tried really hard to speak - It's our languages, their windows leak.
You still smell nice, but don't tale that too tall.

I hope - just once - we stroll down an unusually wide street,
You'll tell me your cords, I'll tell you my sleet. 

Eventually, the street comes to many streets and we drift.
Busy navigating our own fogged hum, our seas.