She is the Rain

Adzan could be clearly heard from the where I sit now. Rain has been romantically falling on the roof creating a novel rhythm.

That is the part that I love about rain that she is honest.

She doesn’t really seem to care whether its presence brings essence of sadness.

Or madness.

I don’t think that people appreciate her as much as I do.

Despite audible curses that she had to take from her haters she still wear that same sweet smile every time she comes down and sees me. She would always make time to sit next to me whispering nonsense and leaving me with a soft kiss on my cheek.

When was the last time she came and visited me? I can’t really remember.

I love all the childhood memories and unspoken love that she carries.

This is the only way I can pick every memory from the wet air and play it the way I like with my bare hand.


And I cry.

Does this sound beautiful to you?

I love this.

How could people loathe rain? I can’t comprehend.

Look, she is the sole reason that forces me to be real.

I haven’t had this wonderful evening for some time.

Rain, love, memory and the pathetic innuendo.

A pretty combo.


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