It rains at night too!
I never thought about the rains...
To arrive at work with wet shoes ughh... messy!
Feels worse still!
Yet at the dead end of the night
The same drops look different.....strangely beautiful
The multicoloured streaks of gasoline spilled on water
Making its way to a nearby pot-hole
Reflections of the blinking lights of an Irish food-joint...
Followed by a total darkness...
A mystic numbness of the eyes locked away...
Where the lashes refuse to bat....
And the iris dilate to a phase of “seeing” and not “watching”
Colors....brighter than a painter’s palette!
I spread apart the five fingers of each hand on the glass pane
The outline glows brightly.....and fades a shade less
Till it goes black.... rhythmically to an unheard beat
A distant sound of celtic music making its way
Everytime the door opens.....
Silence again.... and the drops dripping past my pane
I wish to feel them run past the skin of my hand....
But the invisible irony makes a jest of my senses
Mocked, I wish again.....
Of enwrapping my fingers with an unknown hand
And then feel the rain dripping past the entwined digits
A chime of the watch brings me back to my room....
Far away.....far far away......
The raindrops did.... look so beautiful at night!
To arrive at work with wet shoes ughh... messy!
Feels worse still!
Yet at the dead end of the night
The same drops look different.....strangely beautiful
The multicoloured streaks of gasoline spilled on water
Making its way to a nearby pot-hole
Reflections of the blinking lights of an Irish food-joint...
Followed by a total darkness...
A mystic numbness of the eyes locked away...
Where the lashes refuse to bat....
And the iris dilate to a phase of “seeing” and not “watching”
Colors....brighter than a painter’s palette!
I spread apart the five fingers of each hand on the glass pane
The outline glows brightly.....and fades a shade less
Till it goes black.... rhythmically to an unheard beat
A distant sound of celtic music making its way
Everytime the door opens.....
Silence again.... and the drops dripping past my pane
I wish to feel them run past the skin of my hand....
But the invisible irony makes a jest of my senses
Mocked, I wish again.....
Of enwrapping my fingers with an unknown hand
And then feel the rain dripping past the entwined digits
A chime of the watch brings me back to my room....
Far away.....far far away......
The raindrops did.... look so beautiful at night!
posted by shalini's world @ 3:11 AM
2 Comments:
Beautiful...can't agree with you more. some things look good or bad depending on the time of the day. Another such thing is the sound of the booting computer...in the morning it brings a feeling 'Oh no...another long hectic day'. And in the evening, the same sound when I am shutting it down, makes me feel 'Yippee, time to go home!'. Loved your observations.
Rain brings back a lot of fond memories of my days in Cal during my school days.
At times listening to VoA & hearing "Its raining its pouring, and old man is snoring..."
Am a big fan of the smell of rain on a freshly plowed field, it gives a total high..
After many years when I was moving to Seattle, folks discouraged me against moving to the city of Rain (City of Depression & suicides) and little did they know that I had lived in Cal and had my share of rain and some....Golly I am supposed to plug a comment and I am spilling my guts..ciao
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