Rain was streaming down from the opaque sheet overhead, gushing with liquidity and individuality they sparkled with inner joy at the airs excitment.
She stood just beyond the rains reach, underneath her porch with her arms held out, the water falling silently down on her ivory skin. She indulged herself in the pleasures that rain made her feel and see. She admired the way the water would slide off her arm, the way it slicked her skin with crystallized moisture, and the way it felt like some unknown and undiscovered velvet.
She listened to the sound that the rain made, the quick beating of the water and the unusual way you could hear every droplet as it hit the ground. She stood there and admired the way the grass glowed after the storm had ended, the way the rain glittered like wild diamonds, the way the flowers wilted as cups of water poured down their shamelessly smooth pedals. She loved to see the rain, to see in its only purest form as simply falling water.
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