Melancholic Pluviophile.

I love it.

That sweet mist from the rain, the fog on the ocean, the dew on the grass,

The hiss and the pitter-patter, the thump and the splash

the watery world, glimpses seen on land in puddles and upturned buckets,

People bustle by, friends are forgotten, time timidly flows in a languid, syrupy pace

Yet the rain still pours.

It’s torrential today.

There’s something about change.

People inherently hate it.

A melancholic feeling follows, like a shadow, but it isn’t dark.

It’s a confident sadness, a goodbye to the past… and the future.. but hello to the present.

Because while we may think time is so complex, ticking and tocking with those gears and those sprockets,

It’s simple.

The present.

It’s the only time we’ll ever live in.