• It falls, sometimes in gentle waves, barely making a mark on my skin.
    It falls, sometimes in vicious currents, forcing me to run, race for shelter.
    It falls, racing each other down the window, trying to reach the pane first.
    It falls, warping my view of the outside world.
    It falls, leaving delicate droplets on the caressing petals of flowers.
    It brings out the best, the colours, the life.
    It is necessary for our survival.
    It is beautiful.
    It is rain.