The droplets, becoming whole again,
as they became puddles, and grew closer.
It was silent,
Except
The conversation playing it’s trick on the mind, as text became voices.
Voices unheard like a quiet bubble, floating on a sea of unrest within.
In the silence,
As the unnoticed got heard,
A slight hint of inspiration returned.
Inspiration that was lost,
Just like the droplets on the glass,
Moving in randomness unaware of the outcome.
In the wind and rain,
In the deep darkness of the night,
It wasn't just the road that was drenched,
the mind was too.
Unaware,
Unsure,
Of what to make of all the webs that it fed.
Conversation ensured,
droplets met, puddles formed.
It wasn't just the water that was flowing any more,
This time,
It wasn’t just the rain that fell.
This time as smiles spread across,
It stayed, and spread.
It reached the mind, and enfolded them in its arms,
Hoovering memory,
Whisking them off the tip of their tongue.
In the silence of the night,
The voices of the mind.
The rain made puddles,
The memories…
THEM.