I don't remember the last time it rained so much during this season.
The patter of rain drops become a monotone that fades into the background so that after a while, I can never tell if it's raining, the echoes of it, or more to come.
It's raining now.
Back in Auckland
I had a smoke, leaning out of the window so it doesn't drift back into the room.
I felt the cool air, heard the rain against the tiles, and saw the rain like fire in the path of the street lamp.
I liked it.
There was a stillness in the air despite the rain.
Maybe the rain drops mute the sounds, or maybe they are all there is.
Just me, a lit cigarette, and countless droplets of yellow and amber,
... falling, falling, falling, always falling.
Falling onto the road outside the house, puddling into little reflections.
I love looking out at the rain.
Looking at the slick road,
.... looking at the reflected lights and just feeling somehow, quiet.
As though the rain and the atmosphere had seeped itself into me.
That, was of a wintry night in Auckland when it rained.
There I was standing on the balcony in my jammy and my furry slipper,
.... sipping on hot chocolate, and the rain carpeted the air in a fine mist.
I remember the quiet feeling as the chocolate warmed me up.
I remember the misty rain settling on my arm like dew.
Jo would come and joined me for a smoke or just stood there with her arms over my shoulder.
And we would talked about anything under the sky.
Sometimes Ian would take the fag of me and gave me the look.
*he was never fond of the idea of me smoking*
Mark would turn the heater on and Ella would started yelling, urging us to come back in coz it's cold outside.
Picture of a perfect flatmates.
... a perfect family.
I loved the rain.
Ya. I loved it.
I used to love the rain.
Here, it scared me.
I miss my kiwi family.
I miss everything outside Indonesia.
.... where I can have a time to myself,
.... where I can have my space.
.... where I loved the rain.
The patter of rain drops become a monotone that fades into the background so that after a while, I can never tell if it's raining, the echoes of it, or more to come.
It's raining now.
Back in Auckland
I had a smoke, leaning out of the window so it doesn't drift back into the room.
I felt the cool air, heard the rain against the tiles, and saw the rain like fire in the path of the street lamp.
I liked it.
There was a stillness in the air despite the rain.
Maybe the rain drops mute the sounds, or maybe they are all there is.
Just me, a lit cigarette, and countless droplets of yellow and amber,
... falling, falling, falling, always falling.
Falling onto the road outside the house, puddling into little reflections.
I love looking out at the rain.
Looking at the slick road,
.... looking at the reflected lights and just feeling somehow, quiet.
As though the rain and the atmosphere had seeped itself into me.
That, was of a wintry night in Auckland when it rained.
There I was standing on the balcony in my jammy and my furry slipper,
.... sipping on hot chocolate, and the rain carpeted the air in a fine mist.
I remember the quiet feeling as the chocolate warmed me up.
I remember the misty rain settling on my arm like dew.
Jo would come and joined me for a smoke or just stood there with her arms over my shoulder.
And we would talked about anything under the sky.
Sometimes Ian would take the fag of me and gave me the look.
*he was never fond of the idea of me smoking*
Mark would turn the heater on and Ella would started yelling, urging us to come back in coz it's cold outside.
Picture of a perfect flatmates.
... a perfect family.
I loved the rain.
Ya. I loved it.
I used to love the rain.
Here, it scared me.
I miss my kiwi family.
I miss everything outside Indonesia.
.... where I can have a time to myself,
.... where I can have my space.
.... where I loved the rain.
Comments