D and again it rained in the valley, and the gray skies bring cold with tears in my soul that melancholy beauty misunderstood. The sound of his old songs on the roofs, and the magic of dance and the smell of his love for the land, led my thoughts to ends that never wanted to be and always was.
This time the rain did not pluck the soul, nor I has won with overwhelming sadness in their sound as I have come to find a happy song and on " droplets tend to crash into my heart to slide in the form of sorrows ", I found a strange joy that nourishes my being filled with profound peace.
The rain has stopped. The sun has dried the streets and cast its rays full of hope, through a transparent sky shows, now all the colors shine again ......... maybe rain tomorrow.
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