Give me rain only when I get to stay in. When I have blankets I can burrow myself under, safe under a roof that doesn’t leak and within walls that don’t yield to raging winds that knock, knock, knock, wanting to break in. (What is the point though, wind? There is nothing for you here.) Give me rain and I’d want to be inside a cafe, alone maybe, with a book and the smell of coffee. With silence that feels warmer than a sunny day, because I look through the glass doors and see the wet and cold out there while I’m here, inside, dry and protected. I’d flip through pages, listen to things brew and boil and lift and clatter. I’d enjoy this rare solitude, the slow tilt of time. The sound of rain against glass and pavement, loud but with a rhythm that is deliberate–a peaceful harmony filling my ears, my head for a change. I’d pull my head back and close my eyes and try to think of nothing. Soon it will be sunny outside but it will still be raining inside me.
Dianne @jollibeb for the prompt.