8/16/2009 --
The day is cold, dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
-Henry Wadsworth
Oh yes, the day is cold, dark and dreary. But, y'know what? I'm loving it. I love the rain. I just do. I don't need a reason. I don't need to know why. But, well, maybe I do.
I love the sound it makes and the feeling it gives. The infinite drops of rain falling onto the ground making those calming sounds. The smell of soil when moistened by the first few drops. The gusts of wind embracing me, and the rain drops falling on my skin, so cool and comforting.
I dream of the rain, and not of sunny days. Wrapped in the warmth of my lover's embrace, gently, in front of a warm furnace. Oh it's just a dream, but still a good dream, nonetheless - a very good dream that's more of a wish.
Don't get me wrong, I still love the sunshine but the rain is the represantation of my dreams and of my very soul.
Sometimes harmful, but other times, benefactory. Letting itself go, then gently pouring down to the thirstly soil.
I just love it.
“I love the rain, 'cause when I walk in it, no one will know I'm crying...”