Rhapsody of Rain

It is raining outside, the thunderstorm roaring to life, and summer rain is gaining momentum. Everyone loves rain, or at least someone like me. Albeit rain (the prolonged one) brings all sorts of troubles, miseries, the inconveniences, I seldom have qualms and worries; I love rain no matter the demerits. And I love poems, despite lack of solid poetry in me. For the polishing of my poesy soul I write an ode to the rain, Rhapsody of Rain.

Wafted into the corridors, petrichor cradled my senses, mild and generous.

First of the season – rain of hope, sprouted greens and awaken bugs, greeted.

This is the call of life and I’m favored.

Trembled in fierce thunders, drenched, cobwebby attic walls failed to scare me.

Faraway beckons, curiosity pushes, my eyes wander beyond the wooden bars.

This is called passion and I acknowledge.

Hitting my upturned face, they swept down and stolen a kiss from my lips.

Tickling and teasing, raindrops washed my body and made love with my soul.

This should be desire, or I define so.

When they rampage, I hesitate for a moment and then step out – guts tucked.

Shedding all the sane but stubborn thoughts, I drown my eyes in the floods.

This is hope, they wash away my tears.

Clouds gather, spread macabre shadows on land, and pour down over hilltops.

I stood at the valley to be slain, the streams taking momentum and memories.

This is revenge; I vouch to live up to.

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