Below is the poem entitled My First Love: The Rain which was written by poet
Downing. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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The smell of rain coming in the air is my favorite.
It’s not an easy sent to pick out.
Most people think the smell of rain is wet asphalt.
But it’s not.
It has a fresh sent, there is a beauty in its smell.
Like a new start.
A redo on what’s been done wrong.
Such a crisp sent that brushes my nose.
Its familiarity is calming to me.
I know that in those moments before the first rains of the season, there is an exciting fresh change in the air.
Everything will be alright.
There is nothing more I love than the smell of freshly fallen rain.
I love the rain with all my soul.
It is a dear friend to me.
Has been my whole life.
It’s the sign of the oncoming season of love joy and excitement.
Who can’t help but love the rain when they know what it has to offer them?
When I was a little girl I remember waking up in the middle of the night, no matter what the time was and being able to smell that rain coming.
I would run outside (usually barefoot) and wait for it to fall.
With each drop that came to fall my excitement would grow more.
I remember laughing with joy and dancing in the rain in my front yard.
I would stay out there until my parents would come yell at me to get back inside.
They would seem upset but after so many times of finding me doing this, I knew they found some joy in my craziness.
I still wake up when I smell the first rains coming.
No matter what time.
Now I usually grab a blanket and sit out on the front porch with a cup of tea and just watch it fall.
It looks like a soft loving hand caressing the world around me.
Nothing is more comforting than that.
I truly have a passion for the rain.
It’s one of the world’s greatest beauties.
Rain, Rain, please come again.