Monsoon Memories: A note

The rain brings out the poet in any one of us.
The dripping sounds, the quiet and muffled whispers, the damp moods.
The raindrops flow gently, creating streams, so much like silent tears.


Not this time.


The wind flew fiercely. The rain splattered all over. The thunder left the world shaking in silence.
Perhaps in fear, maybe respect.


I still remember the day, as clear as yesterday.
The poem I wrote so many years ago still makes me remember.


I have always heard about how words impact one's heart.
Today, I realized that.
I read these words, and still remember the frightful thunder, the blinding flashes of light, and the howls of the wind.
Yet what I remember the most is not the Storm itself.
It was the silence that followed. The world became so still... So very still.
In that stillness I relived the words that I had jotted.
I closed the book, kept it away.
In the morning, it was taken away.
It lay, forgotten, with the numerous books I kept.


Today, I take it out with the same pride I had when I removed the dusty first edition of a well-read, well-loved book from my shelf simply to rub my hand over the beautiful lettering on the cover.