Dear drizzle, Promise me that you will fall In such a way that you Will not make me miss him, Remembering him, He had put the last traces of me In between those yellow pages.
Bangalore rains didn't make a good first impression on me. It rained constantly for the first three months of my stay reminding me time and again of how I missed looking at you taking those tiny droplets in your hand, from the railing of the office we were once, a part of.
Not that I ever told you about it but then some memories are just to be in my head. Just like those photos of ours, we have in our cellphones, which never make it to the social media.
Listening to your voice from one ear and sound of drizzle-drenched birds from the another simply completed my evening.
Yet again, it's raining here today, a little heavily but after a long time.