the sky and the clouds (or, confessions likely forgotten)

They talk about us, my love,
In books and in trains,
In wet window panes of homes,
And on streets of the sane,
And the papers and morning coffee,
All carry the same name;
Some hide in their cocoons,
Some curse His bloody game,
Some rejoice at the mercy
Some run for cover, for space;
They talk about us, my love,
They know not our pain,
You left teary when it was raining,
And love, it's the same rain.

the sky and the clouds
(or, confessions likely forgotten)

Written by Yash Raj Talan

[note to self: rains fill you]