Anahit Arustamyan

“It's me, no, it's not autumn rain.
I fall on your window pane.
I transform to a mild rain
to reach the lane,
where you stand and wait.
Come out, don't fear to get wet.
It's me, no, it's not autumn rain.
I arrive at your place day by day.
I fall from the sky to say,
'it’s me on your way.''

Love and nostalgia “rain” in this short poem to let the reader touch the raindrops that are not cold but warm.