I understand why the rain causes aches.
It’s a heavenly balm that cleanses our wounds,
Which we conceal within the depths of a sigh.

The cool, wet pellets splash against scars that resemble riverbeds,
Flowing to coalesce with flooded emotions.
The draught is over—
We are no longer ravaged by the fires of rage.

As the petrichor lingers, tickling our senses,
Gaze upon the gray skies and -
Know that the sun still shines brightly.