#13

โ€‹I hear the sound of the rain as my own,

The pitter 

The patter,

singing a song.
Rythms enchant me,

compelling me to move my feet,

just along the beats it sets.
I open my arms, 

letting the drops immerse me,

take me to the dreamland. 

I can almost feel myself flying,

high,

above in the air,

losing a breath at the sight in front of me.
The world, looks small,

irrelevant,

but so beautiful from above.
I can smell,

the wet mud,

it goes through my nuances.
Memories flash through me,

Some bitter, some sweet. 

The taste of the pakodas my mother made,

still afresh. 

I immediately crave 

for the fresh green tea,

she always made in the rainy days. 

The pitter

The patter.
The thunder

The flash.
Loud and clear, sharp and flashing. 

The rain may be just for few hours, but it’s impact is enduring,

Memories of childhood,

of boats in puddles 

and 

bhuttas from bhaiya. 

The rain gives me pleasure, 

It gives me so much.

It washes away my pain,

my bitter emotions 

and disdain.

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