Rain

The cool drops run down my hot face. The roaring sound of the falling drops is overwhelming. I watch as a drop lands on my shirt and is repelled rolling off a brave yet vain attempt to keep me dry. I close my eyes, I can suddenly can hear each tiny drop falling. No longer a roar, now they are tiny little notes falling tinkling as they land. Some silently on my shirt, some thump softly on the asphalt, some even plink as they fall. A symphony of tiny musicians. I can feel each drop slowly gaining speed as it rolls down my scalp and then races down my cheek plummeting towards the ground. I wonder if that particular raindrop ever gets to be again, probably not but sometimes I like to think so. They are like a bucket full of marbles being poured from the sky only temporarily separate, but yet still on thier own tiny missions, perhaps just to wash that bit of dirt off my face. I open my eyes abruptly aware of my drenched shirt, clinging, plastered tightly to my skin, it tugs against me unwilling for me to move. Suddenly I am cold, I shiver and begin a heartfelt dash back to the warmth that becons to me from inside. Splashing recklessly through the once tiny rivulets, now raging muddy streams filled with tiny little drops. I wonder if those little drops will ever fall on me again.