Rain

• Art

								
It is still raining. So heavily that the cat and dogs are barking. Some taxis are floating in the streat , or said in other words driving in such a rain is not an easy work. I am at sofa ,writing a poem about love.
What does love mean , are my thoughts then the telefone rings.
-What about  going to the National Gallery to the Leonardo Da Vinci exibition.
Yes or no is always the question , from Shakespaere times. Yes I love Leonardo Da Vinci but the rain is too havily raining and in the time we are there the streets will be  little rivers ,till the next sunny day. Ok I have shoes for that case and umbrella . ,,Yes,, is the answer.
Around 5 p.m that day we are in the National Gallery , and I am in front of the reproduction of Mona Lisa. The original is in Louvre ,as we all know. 
-Do you become my wife -said the voice.
I remmember only the voice ,because of the de ja vu feelings then.
-Yes of course.
Every well mannered woman will say so. Is the love for women mean the man who said the most romantic marriage  invitations. My be is so said Robert Burns ,but I think futher  the red red rose is the face in love -you know then using no make up rarely women are red in their cheeks. 
Nowadays is raining again.
It is spring time. Rains are the best emanation of nature at this geographical region.
I am drinking coffe. 
After rains nature is inocent ,so are humans that love once for always.
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