Waxing nostalgic, the rain declined vertically, with fain upon my boxed aperture
At first the rain charmed the planters filled with early springs blossoms,
charmingly deceptive, the
nutant blossoms wore the droplets as translucent laminal nacre, a
long awaited nourishment, as opposed to the placebo I fed them daily
The blossoms receptive at first, welcomed the showers, but
as the rain amplified its watering, the
blooms bowed, just as my drooping visage imprinted the condensation upon the monocled lens that magnified the deluge
The rain unconcerned began to spate, pooling in the circles I had cultivated around my newborn sprouting vines
The rain washing away the progress I had made, they faded into crop circles,
viewed aerially by the rain directing its course with perfectly aimed precision
Just as abruptly as the rain had begun, it ceased on an incline,
racing backwards towards Uranus, stowing itself behind the parade of March-ing clouds,
playing hide-and-seek, with the slumbering sun, as
the sun shyly shown through the nimbus lining,
