I look out of the window as the rain drives down,
and I go down the memory lane,
for many a good memories I cherish,
and many that I wish would perish.
The rain holds me under a spell,
the one I do not wish to break,
for in the rain I can be me,
and feel alive truly.
The water drops line the window pane,
and slide down leaving a faint trace on the cold glass,
for nothing is meant to be still,
and one must keep moving even if to fall.
Tardily I let my hand out,
to feel a drop of rain on my open palm.
As I let the rain soak my hand,
I move, and rise to get up and stand.
for the need to rise rose in me like a searing pain,
and sudden and relentless like the pounding rain.
I run out to my terrace,
my legs racing to be out before my mind could ask me to sneak back in.
I stand under the pouring clouds,
that drench me inside and out,
for the rain can pierce me, see through me, read me
and make me whole again gradually.
Slowly I lift my arms up,
and move my face towards the open skies,
to witness the rain in all its splendour,
to get soaked and surrender.
As I open my eyes and rake in the surroundings around,
I feel a breath stuck in my throat,
for the scenery around seems brand new,
and the beauty of the just-washed leaves is so true.
I get lost in the soothing sounds and the subtle smells,
in the rhythmic splatter and the careless puddles.
In the rain, I stand,
for I felt a joy that threatened to engulf me,
and I happily let it be free.