The Sound of Rain


Searching for meaning in an empty coffee cup,

he sat around the busy café contemplating life.

The rain was pouring out her dreams and hopes

on the clear glass window as if to only shout out:

“It is me you’re searching for!”

“The rain will eventually stop as well,” he thought

as the wind slowed down to a gentle hum

and the droplets now turned lighter and flowed

down the glass like the memory of Her.

He stood up and walked across the empty

streets of downtown not going anywhere specific

but walking with a sense of purpose, nonetheless.

“Maybe I’ll see her empty walk,” he thought,

as he kept walking down the dripping streets.

“Maybe she hasn’t forgotten

the sound of the rain as I did long ago”.

As he kept walking, he noticed that the drains,

filled with the suffocating waters,

were overflowing with hopes and dreams,

mumbling her name as he splashed through the alley.

Everything seemed to stop and standstill as the sun

peeked its bright brow from behind the shallow clouds

which now moved at a steady pace across the morning sky.

“Hello old friend from the east, I see you’re just as happy

to see the clouds roll away as I was that faithful afternoon”.

He began reminiscing of a time where the horizon

was the only thing which made sense and

the thought of her slipped into his clustered thoughts.

“If she’s not here with me, at least the memories

will forever flow down the river of thought,”

but the river was now muddied and distorted

by his helpless attempts to grab and drink their essence.

A bitter taste soon arouse, as a droplet of mud jumped

into his mouth from the reckless car driving so fast

that it made him wonder to whom it was driving.

His shoes now filled with doubt, echoed silently

as his steps became heavier and heavier, to a point

where wearing them seemed useless, for his feet

were also drenched with dirt, and so he took them off.

People were staring at his naked feet

as he proudly walked the streets,

only to feel a sharp pain rise up his leg

and up into his brain as a piece of glass

slashed away at his bare foot.

It was the remains of an old whiskey bottle,

with its purpose now served, remaining

shattered on the brick walkway,

waiting for a fool to stumble upon it.

His foot started gushing out blood and

the streets began turning red as he walked

by the strange people only staring in amazement.

“Oh, the sweet aroma of blood fills my breath

once again, I have missed your wretched pain,

just as I have missed the rain, and ultimately her.

At least you are still here to show me that I can,

in fact, feel pain again. My endless search for numbness

is useless with you wondering about”.

He walks back into the café,

now not as crowded as before,

but with enough eyes that his bleeding foot

turns heads around the room.

The chattering furiously grew,

as the floor began soaking in red.

A man offers him some napkins, as if that

will stop his heart from pumping

the syrup-like liquid through his body

and out on the recently mopped floor.

He takes them nonetheless and wraps

his now swollen foot, like a child

being tucked in by a loving mother.

The waiter approaches him through the

staring gazes and offers him a cup of green tea.

“At least the rain has finally stopped,” she said

with a loving smile, as she places

the cup of tea on the tiny table.

Just as the cup touched the table,

the rain began beating on the glass windows

surrounding the café as if it was trying to break in.

The blood outside washed away and dispersed

among the sidewalks as people started

splashing through, in an attempt to stay dry.

“So much for that,” she said,

smiling as the rain now

echoed even louder in his ears.

His tongue scorched as the tea made its way

into his mouth, wanting to say something, anything!

He chokes on the boiling water infused with green leaves.

She walks away smiling to herself as the rain slows down once again.

He remembers to blow on the hot tea as he takes another

sip, trying not to rush anything which can be easily avoided,

but it was too late now, and his tongue numbingly

burns as he wonders if this tea will give him the

same caffeine-filled rush that he was used to.