Pluviophile

As many would readily admit, one of life’s sound pleasures is to wake up on an early rainy morning, with the intention to head outside for the much disliked yet indispensable routine of exercise, and find a genuine excuse handed on a platter to go back to sleep.

Nimbus Clouds in the morning,

Mask the touch of the sun.

The gargle of the sky stirs me up,

Pipping my alarm to the waking post.

But this time I don’t clear my misty eyes.

 

Deliberately avoiding instinct,

I walk up to open the windows,

To see the sheeting rain,

Clattering on the window panes.

 

As the algid wind blows in,

I turn my eyes towards you.

You, who lies in deep slumber,

Dreamless like a baby.

It would be a sin to shatter

Such tranquility.

 

Every morning we find an excuse,

To resist waking up.

But still do by virtue of quotidian discipline.

But today my girl,

An excuse is knocking at the door,

And waiting to be availed.

An excuse to renege on our morning promise

Of sauntering out for our brisk spiritual constitutional.

 

I draw up the blinds, and close the curtains,

And tune down the sound of growling rain into

Loving whines.

 

I tuck in between the sheets,

And switch off the alarm clock,

A few seconds before it tinkles out

Its rousing summons.

 

I place your arms on my chest,

And close my weary eyes,

Letting the soporific pill

The somniferous rumbling of distant thunder,

Lullaby us,

As I slither back,

To join you in the Arms of Morpheus.