The rain always reminds me of unspoken sorrow —
Of hearts longing to be heard;
Of chances never to be taken;
Of promises ought not to be broken.
But the rain is also an immutable triumph —
Of forgiveness that is bound to happen;
Of faith unveiling the beauty of tears;
Of hope extremely marvelous and steadfast.
It’s the scent of the drizzle over the window pane —
The longhand letters and the wonderful maze;
The people who believed and those who eagerly resist;
The memories, those memories, of once requited love.
It’s those poignant moments and bargained ventures – a liberating aftermath.
It’s the rain, it’s this rain, and how I always remember what I had never forgotten: you.
~I started drafting this poem Saturday when the rain started to poured out so hard it felt like there’s a waterfalls falling from the heavens. I finished writing midnight of Tuesday when all those feelings came back all at once. I grappled on them so tight, I don’t want them to hang loose. And there, I thought, this could be a poem. :)