It is always enchanting to look at the rains. I don't know what force draws me towards the rain, to gaze at it for long. There is romance and sadness mingled in every pure drop that falls from the sky.
The rain always brings memories, quiet reflections from the window sill. The air grows cold, but my soul reposes bathed in an inner warmth, dancing to the cadence of the rain drops.
When the rains stop, there is a residual stillness in the air. The clear white skies, lines of water droplets hanging off the balcony railing, the happy melody of the birds. Silent trees with just a few leaves quivering here and there. Gray slopes of housing built far away, peeking from in between the trees. An over-energetic fly buzzing against the glass doors, seeking escape to the fresh outdoors. A plane softly whistling above to an unknown destination. The scraping sound of sand from the plastic shovels of the little children in the park. A bee hovering around the roof tiles, the whoosh of a car speeding by, the calm sunshine bouncing off the water on the wet patio chairs.
The rain always brings memories, quiet reflections from the window sill. The air grows cold, but my soul reposes bathed in an inner warmth, dancing to the cadence of the rain drops.
When the rains stop, there is a residual stillness in the air. The clear white skies, lines of water droplets hanging off the balcony railing, the happy melody of the birds. Silent trees with just a few leaves quivering here and there. Gray slopes of housing built far away, peeking from in between the trees. An over-energetic fly buzzing against the glass doors, seeking escape to the fresh outdoors. A plane softly whistling above to an unknown destination. The scraping sound of sand from the plastic shovels of the little children in the park. A bee hovering around the roof tiles, the whoosh of a car speeding by, the calm sunshine bouncing off the water on the wet patio chairs.
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