The first rain of the season always smells like poetry…
As if someone planted healing droplets in the sky
Sitting by the window, watching those little pearly drops on the glass
Flooding the view with glory and let the sorrows pass.
They play around with leaves, hanging & dripping, all dispersed,
Chasing each other, as if in a race to kiss the ground first and quench its thirst.
Petrichor emanating from the dry grass, spreading sweet aroma of delight,
Rejuvenating the senses, making the souls smile bright.
Somehow this downpour leaves behind a pastel nostalgia for the heart to rejoice
Not to get faded away, my eyes run along the rainbow to follow its color…
Even on the rumble of roaring clouds, rain drops dance merrily with poise,
With a salty soul with rhythmic pulse and mystic depth that stays forever.
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