Grey clouds appear, breeze sing their grandiose arrival.
The parched leaves attend the symphony when the wind lets them
A little kid by the bus stop looks for a whale among the clouds,
Waiting for the sprinkles to touch her skin. The chorus outside is totally missed by Mum.
Unlike the resting mud hiding in the grass, Mum's rest doesn’t come at an end.
Only her slow breathing is felt, her chest has a rhythmic movement synced with the outside symphony.
But never did she look out, how could the melody reach her? What senses do I lack?
Now her chest changes rhythm; slows down. The chest knew the song's about to end.
Outside, the girl’s skin embraced the rain that started.
Inside, as the song stops to a different vocal, I sense drops of water glistening my cheeks.
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