The wind howls, the rain pours, and the trees rustle out of time.
But I kind of prefer this weather.
While it’s not the most enjoyable to walk through (more like slip and fall through), the rain is fun to watch. If you stare hard enough it falls slower, and maybe for a moment, you can pick a raindrop out of the cascade to claim for yourself.
But inevitably the rain falls, the storm passes, the seasons change and the year ends.
The rain is sanctum, it makes the world shimmer despite the storm clouds; makes the house seem calmer as chaos rages outside
I’ll hold onto the rain, hold onto its memory for a single second, and watch it fall.
Goodbye rain.
The cold bite of the breeze cowers. The leaves' jive slows into a sway and eyes wander, cognizant of our loss.
I have to go back.
It’s time for the clouds to part, for the traffic to move—it’s time for me to stop staring out the window.
The storm has passed
The sun raptures my retinas in a plethora of pulverizing waves. The distance is wavering in a torrid tamber and I.... I miss the monsoon.
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