Nimbuses gathered and with one loud thunder,
the drops lost their balance and fell down
to be hugged away from death by the soil,
to be lost in the depth of the potholes and
to slide across the green carpets hanging from the branches.
The rain drops fall, slide and are happy to lose them because they have people looking forward to them at the other end.
Maybe I was not as lucky as the drops of rain,
because when I fell neither was the ground eager to hug me nor were the leaves.
Tranquility was where my soul got lost and the blood was what the ground relished as I lay there, unnoticed.