. A cloud falls from the sky, a lead balloon of precipitation, and cuddles the ground like a long lost lover. Dripping its cargo, shedding tears along the way, leaving a trail of damp memory and a calm balm for the Earth.
And a candle flickers on a lonely table, as a pen drifts across lines, filling meaningless words that never convey the depths of separation. The flame flares as a waft, a draft, creeps in a crack under the door, adding a poignant touch to the melancholy of atmosphere. Gripping the pen with delicate unease, the hubbub drowns inwards, doubt rises in ascendancy, the pen falls, like a discarded relationship, and the meaningless words stop.