Blossom Rain

It is raining
white blossoms today.

The pure flakes
that fall like snow.

So white,
and so cold.

18 April 2006

The tear that falls from the sky
cannot relieve the grief
that thunders from above.
It is useless to cry,
but do so anyway.

Actually, i was at the bus stop today, the one at the main gate where i take 58. Today is the early day, like all tuesdays, and i was lugging all of my stuff, as usual, home. The sky was overcast, and the gale was strong. Small blossoms started falling onto the ground, aided by the wind. They were yellow, as bright as sunlight, and yet in the dull light of the grey sky they seemed muted, almost white. They had red stigmas, almost as if tipped with blood. It was quiet, without anyone at the bus stop. It was serene, and yet a sense of loneliness pervaded. I understood what it felt then, that serene silence- it was cold, and it was comforting. But the sense of aloneness was scary, as if there was no one else left in the world, except me and those little blossoms.

It started to pour soon afterwards. The patter of the rain was a welcome relief from the silence, but it served to isolate me, trapped in the meagre shelter of the bus stop. I was glad when the bus came.

The rain seemed to stop as i boarded the bus.