Rain

Rain is dripping of my face. Slowly sliding on my skin. 

Carressing me. 

I feel the drops cling to my chin a second and finally fall I know not where.

Left me and yet its trail remains.

Light from the greyest sky finds its way through my closed lids.

Soft and reassuring.

The air is fresh, pure and washed, and present.

Whenever I breathe.

Some might think I am crying when I am actually smiling.

For rain is beautiful.