The rain always reminds me of unspoken sorrow —
Of hearts longing to be heard;
Of chances never to be taken;
Of promises ought not to be broken.
But the rain is also an immutable triumph —
Of forgiveness that is bound to happen;
Of faith unveiling the beauty of tears;
Of hope extremely marvelous and steadfast.
It’s the scent of the drizzle over the window pane —
The longhand letters and the wonderful maze;
The people who believed and those who eagerly resist;
The memories, those memories, of once requited love.
It’s those poignant moments and bargained ventures – a liberating aftermath.
It’s the rain, it’s this rain, and how I always remember what I had never forgotten: you.
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth of Letters
PoetryWhen I was eighteen, Metaphor became my bestfriend. He held my hands tight, making me marvel around the world through my heart, letting me breathe an ocean of emotions, pushing me to unwrap bravery by showing me that Words can mean Courage. That Wor...
