It’s a cold-cold morning here in Daytona.
Rain beating down on the roof.
Windows trembling in the wake of thunder.
Winds tearing their way through trees.
Making it hard for me to light my cigarette.

The sun behind the storm clouds,
fighting for a way to break through and warm the earth he so loves.
Failing miserably as the lightning teases
and rain batters the soft tender earth.
Filling her with sadness

And her children who walk today,
as sad as her.
For the cold-wet weather
seems to suck the joy out,
of their routine “lives”.

All her children,
But me!

The rain on my face calming my nerves.
The winds wrapping me in a blanket of cold lust.
The songs of thunder joyful while I dance.
The lightning giving me comfort in brief bouts of darkness.
The clouds smiling from above as I look to the skies with a smile.

I do miss the warmth of the morning sun.
This gift of rain is but from him.

His soft caresses as he embraces his love while she’s engulfed by his heat.
The longing for her lover while in times of darkness
that make her heart cry and shun, the sun.
Giving all her tears and all her love to her children.

I celebrate the rains
to celebrate their love.

Well, not really.
Rains just make me happy.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar