Rain book of the year

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When the rain starts pouring
On their way to be free
I wondered here being far
If I could see a shallow me
Of the beautiful flowers
That crosses me inside the path
I trade what is left to gift
The wettest shadow of dart
There if you could imagine some spells
Those start their journey from the leaves
Starting to pour from the sky
To churning between the feet
Sometimes I think for a while
What if it just came to see?
Even so chances are bleak
It many end up falling on me
If I tried picking it up in my eyes
And to smell it softly
I may very well get the nexus of life
Dealing with the charm of festivity
Purposeful treasure of this rain
I met in this hour of distress
Splendid self-written look to wear
In the rain book of this year

“Rain book is a not just a poem. It’s an essence of my life. In the middle of the year when the rain starts to shower, I see what has been over and what is left to my power. I write it all down & hide under the safe, to open with the coming of middle year and be amazed of the rain. It’s better than the starting as it’s not even the end. It’s the way to see it as half better in change & half in pain.”

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