Lately, I can't stop thinking about the rain. The way it sounds, its smell, the way it speaks to me... It hasn't rained in a while. A long while. Huh, guess I got used to its tone right outside my window. Well, there's nothing I can do. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be raining when it was. It's a big world after all. Who knows? It could just be playing its magical tune at someone else's window and soothing them.
As much as I shouldn't mind, without it the sky seems grayer... Like it lacks its presence. I wouldn't be able to reach its cloud and bring it back; I'm aware. I should focus on the things which are present. Things I can touch. My head, my heart, myself. Hey, you better not be thinking any dirty meanings, for I look for the opposite. As much as I long for rain, if there's no cloud then I should look forward. For the rain is unreachable to my hands who have yet to reach the sky. I do wonder... did the rain enjoy playing its tune for me? Most of the time it calmly streamed from its cloud, some other times it seemed to not enjoy it. I hope that the person who's now hearing its tune, listens as much as I tried to. Who's hearing it as it drops, finds it as soothing. And who's able to have the honor of its presence, its able to calm its waters while it cries out.
YOU ARE READING
Rainy Midnight Thoughs
PoesíaBeing cozy, with the only shine in the room being a night lamp and right outside your window hearing the sky's tears drop as you stare at the ceiling. Well, this could lead to perhaps two alternate routes: 1.Falling into the depths of sleep and end...
