the first roaring sound she would found intimidating, but later followed by the sweet ground aroma of petrichor
and here comes the gushing sound of fallen rain
she would stood still in front of the window and watch the cloud weeping
overwhelmed with interest and deepest tranquility
before, during and after the fallen rain
she loves everything about it
if others would choose to squiggle in the blanket, and immersed in deep sleep during the rain
she would never done any of that
rain was something she waited for and would cherished
every bits of moments, every fallen drops
each wonderful peculiar scent,
every eye gaze to the deep blue sky when it turns grey
and the soft wind blows that never fail to accompany
then when it stopped raining
she would still love the scenery
the wet-looking road after the rain
the several tiny drops that left at the glass of window pane
as well as the humming trees and and the fallen leaves
per say, she do really love everything about the rain
.
.
.
and there was this one man
who said that rain was never a real deal for him
until he met her
1600 hour. and it's raining currently.
16/5/2015
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