November Rain

its november and its raining.
and i would have felt like singing 'November Rain', had it been a slightly happier song. I hear the raindrops fall on the metal ledge of my window, and I run out to the terrace in the blue moonlight, dark night. But the rain is not even that. Its a slight drizzle. And soon its gone. My hair isnt even damp. The cottons not marginally soaked. And I've played on the wet granite, but im not wet. I've danced nimbly in the dark night in the grass, and emerald drops form on those blades on grass, barely.
nothing lasts forever , eh?