Do you remember those nights, when rain sounded outside among the trees? – she asked. The time was fleeting by very very fast. Only a few hours later, I would be leaving perhaps, on a city-bound train. My feet stood on the white road like a lover saying goodbye.
Do you remember those nights? – she was asking. Yes, every day. I remember those stormy nights. The September rains coming down in endless sheets, messing up all the tossing heads of the trees, seas of notes from an invisible orchestra rising in the wetness of the dark, wakeful outside. The campus was awake and dancing in the dark. Hordes of massive clouds over the sky, hidden behind a living forest of raindrops. Beds used to be made, and mosquito curtains set up. Windows closed to keep the inside dry. Only the incessant sound of the night rain, hammering away on the outside. Walking along the corridor, and a moment of lightning, turning the black sky violet for two split seconds.
Somewhere far above the ceiling and roof and the trees, – a crack of thunder. We lay under our sheets and wished for a no-drill morning next day.
Oh, I do remember those nights. Rainy nights were the best to hide a heartbreak. The heavy patter drowned out any elegiac note. The constant sound of rain easily washed away all feelings of loneliness. Sadness found a home in the distant rumbles of the clouds. How do you forget?
And from deep places came the songs, to keep us company and tell us what the clouds said. Those were our first meetings. Like initial kisses and subsequent lovemaking, the never-lost episodes of finding one another. The silver blue brushstrokes of ecstasy and wonder.
The purple buds still covered the white road. The beautiful winds still rushed like lovers. I still remembered what we had, and then my day ended and left it all behind.
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