Drop by Drop

I can remember the orange reddish trees
I can remember the sweet chilly breeze
I can still smell the assuring scent of the freshly wet grass
The tiny drops of the chuckling rain gently kissing the windows' glass
The shops on both sides of the road
Warm and friendly, with jazzy lights on their doors.
There is people,
happy people,
Standing under the rain ,
Drenched to the bones, but with not a single complain.
Some are running to their cars with torn newspapers over their soaked heads
Probably thinking about the moment they'd lie on their cozy beds.
The horns beeping madly in the hysteric traffic,
People swearing, shouting, everybody thinking everybody else is lunatic.
The sidewalk crowded in the most unbelievable way,
everybody thinking everybody else is the hunter and he's the prey,
I can still imagine myself struggling in that adventurous cruise
When all I want is a freshly made orange juice.
I loved the mess, the inconsiderate cry outs and the throng,
I loved the sound of the rain sweeping back and front
the dirt, the lost key, the broken bracelet of a reckless teenage,
the 250 coin, the stability of a cement which stood out for a certain phase.
When it rains, the day never ends
it imprisons you like a solicitous fence;
Walking under the rain is washing your fears away,
It is you rising; it's praying in its most graceful way,
It's God whispering through you, hugging you:
You've wished the world and now it's true.
Each drop is dying at your feet,
And before it vanishes, it looks at you and smile with ease:
"Everything's all right so don't you weep,
Calm down and put that anger to sleep.
If it makes you feel better, go ahead and cry,
Just remember that I've crossed this whole remoteness just to die.
So if you're searching for an explanation, don't bother anymore,
If you people knew the answers you wouldn't be this great at all;
I love how you brush your hair on a stormy day,
You clean your boots before going out to play,
You drive your new clean cars on the muddiest roads
And smile while carrying the heaviest loads.
You walk on a path uncertain where it would lead,
Tumble down a hill with it's edges too steep
Still you try to climb back up, back to the top,
Though knowing that you might be killed at a drop.
And what's ironic is that you don't know what's up there
And I seriously don't know how can you dare.
This day appears to be a stormy one
But if I'm not wrong, it'll soon be gone.
And by the way, I forgot to tell you,
Your hair looks great today, it suits you."
You'd put your hand on your head-
I know because I once stood there instead-
Push your hair backwards, away from your eyes,
And I hope you laugh when you realize
That even now that it's wet,
it's still in the same regular set
With that rebellious lock on your forehead.
Just then you'll remember that the day is stormy just like the drop has said.