It Is Raining My Dear Comments

It's raining, my dear and I am here right near the window, holding these rusted grills looking at the distant faded by the scattering drops. Lanterns that were dancing around the skies have retired to their homes to sleep covering themselves with the dense leaves; crickets are silent afraid of the thunderbolts. Upon the flash of lightning I can see those wet braches shivering in chill!

I am thinking about the poem you asked me about the rain - it is still trembling on my lips but silent devoid of words. The melodies from the deepest of the heart, through the paining throat disappear unto the noisy drops and I make futile attempts to raise my voice above them all! Alas, music dies within the caves of longing stretching endless towards fulfillment!
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