The Sound of Rain

The sound of rain
I hear it in my sleep
But when I look out the window
It’s quiet as the sticks

The sound of the monsoon rain
Washing all the mud
Hot afternoons erased
By grey skies over huts

The unnatural breeze
With its speeding velocity
An invisible force
With lashing ferocity

Saviour of the parched earth
On the taste of my tongue
Fat, heavy and warm
Its soil in my lungs

The sound of rain
Is calling me home
To my village
Where I first roamed

Not the weak English showers
Smattering on the sides
But the torrential Asian powers
Forceful violent tides

A storm is coming
I can smell it in the air
The skies are blood pink
Sweeping where eagles dare.

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2 thoughts on “The Sound of Rain

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