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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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Not pretty, still...

 Maybe she's not so pretty.

But she's electric.

A wooden electric guitar

Costs more than the other ones

Although wood is not rare

Or special

Or Stronger.

The wood is delicate

And it takes delicate hands to put together.

She is delicate too.

And it tells me the people who made her her

Are also delicate.

Maybe she's not so pretty.

But she's electric;

Having impact like lightning,

Even if it doesn’t strike a tree.

Having impact

Just by being present.

She isn’t pretty,

But she has a madness that's very enjoyable.


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