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…
I watch rain roll down the cafe window,
Mixing it with the purple neon
And the lights of cars dashing by...
Making it a colourful pallet
Used to the extreme
By an eccentric artist
To get out all colours and all shades
For his work.
The pallet is here..
The painting is missing.
But I look around and soon find it
There itself.
The colours fall in
And flow on the walls and the ceiling...
And we...
Our hands and our faces...
All nauseating with colour.
It evokes the same awe
Of looking at an aquarium as a child...
Moved to awe at a giant shark...
So might,
Yet so quietly going about.
I watch rain roll down the cafe window,
Mixing it with the purple neon
And the lights of cars dashing by...
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