Don’t you love the rains?

Leaves of a tree that once slyly shed them away.

Puddle against a murk that once claimed to reign.

Falling in abundance, taking trips of a faint nostalgia,

With that lovely melancholy, yes, rains are here.

Look at that little girl enjoying her first rains,

Her father at the side-step, holding her umbrella, as she dances without inhibition.

Smile with those boys playing the best game ever,

Wiping out malice with the mud-lords they hail.

And that first brush of romance,

As he flicks her wet hair away.

Or you, you of that redoubtable cynicism,

Walking freely, with that joyous gait.

Come, let’s sit by the window,

And hear those tales of yore.

Let’s go down the memory lane,

And revel in songs sung ages ago.

Coffee, tea, cigarettes and ash,

Some love lost, some betrayals had.

Go stain those whites with those mucky, muddy trails,

Come, lose yourself, let’s enjoy the rains

Untimely showers, let’s complain.

Drizzles of delight, they’ll wash the pains.

New stories unfolded, let’s live again.

And you tell me you don’t love the rains?