little grains that flew around touching me, touching the leaves before finally laying itself down on the face of the road.
the heat escaped the heart of the earth and made its way up the crevices and landed as tiny droplets of sweat on my palm.the warm wind that came out from nowhere, took them off my palm and perhaps carried them back to the heart which pined for them.
maybe they shared stories,maybe they talked of me-of how i smile to myself when i stand in a crowded bus or how my feet move to a song i sing inside my head.
they dont share stories where it rained today.they dont hear Joni Mitchell in my head.
sitting here in my little hot room, i saw you many many miles away as you bid goodbye to the blue sky above and let rain form bubbles under your shirt.
as for me, i was happy looking at my palm-watching sweat beads appear and disappear.
i felt your smile in my hair.i knew it was raining at home today.
6 comments:
Your little thoughts are so beautiful when you pen them down. The title of the piece is a brilliant take. the juxtaposition of nature and the urban life is beautiful.
"i was happy looking at my palm-watching sweat beads appear and disappear." ..beautiful!
Will wait for more such posts this season!
If only it was in my power to send you some rain...I would.
I think it's the prose of life that brings out the purest poetry in us...as in this post...
Very nice post, Riya :) I like the idea of rain there and the sweat drop here.
Every comment on your blog looks like a Christmas card, or am I the only one noticing that? I mean, you're as brilliant as you are, but they just keep driving it in and in and in, I don't know what they're expecting.
It's a thought. It's your thought, this rain. I guess I'll buy it anytime, you know, it's YOURS :)
its strange how rain makes us forget everything and cleanses us .Lovely,this post be....like the rain washing away the sun.
When it rains here it does not really drain. There is that spray that makes you want to sit outside and look at the hostel door. My door reads Turn the flower. Its a good thing only some understand what that means.
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