Whispers of Rain...
Waiting for the skies to turn cloudy dark,
shades of grey spreading through a spark,
the season of rain they call it so,
for me it's season where tear drops glow,
The dull old world turns into lush green place,
the dew drops gets the company of rain,
and even though theres no difference really, thought is all that matters here,
The nights are slow a sparkle of shower,
or maybe a storm which one desires,
though both somehow calm my mind,
one with noise and other with time,
The rumbling sky speaks thousands of words, clouds whisper their secrets, and I hear,
for talking to the clouds is my favorite one,
where all I vent and they just listen...
V