I become romantic,
when the rain drops its loudness in soil.
crossed finger and the kissing hand,
party move with one hand in her waist and next in her hip,
her curleys splattering the drops all over my face,
unnoticed by the towns and urban.
I cannot explain how much i love to dance in the wild rain making the whole of nature my audience.
But neither the rain has happened,
Nor she is with me.
Every things has been deserted,
As like the no moon in the darkest dark.