Opus

Raindrops on a yellow taxi

The raindrops danced on the roof
of a yellow taxi. I couldn't find metaphors
fitting enough to describe how beautiful
it was. The roads glistened. The people
grumbled but were secretly happy, I could tell.
I have learnt to listen to the city when it
whispers, softly, like a fading breath in fear of the
shadow. It was at the station. The evening-train
whistled, I didn't know whether it was coming
or going.