It’s true, Rain makes me philosophical,
Standing next to my murky window pane,
I am contemplating every moment in my life,
Every cherished or perished dreams I had.
Yes, I am a lover of gloomy rainy days,
Yes, I am also a lover of tragedies,
Oh, don’t take me as some hopeless kind,
Tell me isn’t happiness equally proportional,
to sufferings, and vice versa, as we nobly say,
Same as any dark rainy day, shrouded in despair,
at the same time hopeful and exciting to some!
Today, as if lost, I stare at the tiny rain drops,
Sticking to my standstill, unsure, cloudy life,
I can see, each represents a hopeful dream,
Some fall off soon, some stay a little longer,
But what matters for me the most is,
My hazy eyes are still soaked wet with them,
At least they haven’t dried or died for now,
That’s why probably I love rain the most,
As it resonates with what I have lost,
And understands, what, I still hope to gain !!