Everytime I see the drops of water dancing in rain, It reminds me of you, reminds me of us. Of those late monsoon evenings when I used to climb up to your window and call you for a walk togeather.
Little drizzles of rain, dark evening and cloudy sky gave the perfect example of my soul and the little cool breeze touching and passing from the freckles of our skin defined you. The rain and wind binds so perfectly but our atoms never collide. It's a metaphor, isn't it? Though we were so close but it was never enough, never enough to merge our atoms, never enough to let me moist the freckles you passed by.
But the memory is still mine, washed away from your eyes. That walk I still remember, washed away from your heart. The way you tucked your hands in mine like the gaps between our fingers were meant to be filled and how your little head rested perfectly in my shoulder. Your hands became blue and your cheeks pink from cold, oh god! I knew you so well. No doubt I wore that jacket just for you so I could keep you warm resting it on your shoulders when you were cold.
You disappeared with the breeze and I was lost as the drizzles stopped. What we left behind was the petrichor as our love.