RAIN…
Rain, rain, though, is what exactly,
Firing of drops, lighting spark,
Or crazy wind little fast
Maybe...
Maybe the rain is,
Towards sky Affection of Earth
Or crush of sky onto this Earth.
Gazing to her dry skina
Looking to her dried eyes,
He makes a noise,
With a incredible voice
By looking her
In burning need,
He comes to her,
With extreme speed.
She gets cooler,
Even after his touch,
And a great scent appeared.
After this crush
Like a new bride,
He covers her in green dress,
He fills her eyes,
To back her grace
Drops runs from her eyes
Countlessly.
And again life moves ahead
Spontaneously
Rain is not a shower, nor rush,
Rain is not a spring, even not a rain.
Between Sky and ground,
A true love is a rain
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