I can only imagine myself looking outside the window as the rain falls, watch the many mirrors on the lonely street, and the city lights being lonely with me. I want to smell the soil if I wish to take a walk outside my house along with my black umbrella, kicking the floor with my shoes softly. The trees will seem like they have their backs facing me, letting me think more about the ocean nearby and become ever more sensitive to the breeze.
Do I want to be happy to be oblivious? Or do I want to be sad to love again? How many times should I wonder when the rain will fall? I wish I could do this once every year or so. I think about it every night.
The rain would fall like whispers, and the raindrops serenade my happy memories; my past joys. The raindrops speak to me as they die off onto my umbrella. And the green leaves brisk each other from the soft winds as if they loved each other, and laughed together under a shining moon. The raindrops would creep to my arms and hands, to fall once again and never be remembered...
There is nothing more to say. It would be a moment of moments.
I wish it rained outside my window.
Goodnight.