Man in the plumeria garden

Rain was still pouring on him in the plumeria garden even though he was dead already.
At times drizzling and then raging with thunderstorms, rain never stopped around him.

Robins left their nests in the unsettling madness of the rain.
The madness of never ending love. Ludicrous.

'Now that he is dead, when can I stop loving him?' Rain asks. It sings and it sobs.




The drops rolled through his dreamy eyes and aquiline nose.
He was still warm and the drops fell down through his badam shaped nails.

Those tiny streams could not resist thinking about the time they spent with him, while flowing away with the plumerias that had fallen around him.
His charm was increasing with the rain.

And one day, slowly he flew away with the rain drops and rest of the plumerias, leaving the garden empty.