The raindrop falls enthusiastically, exuberantly,
Drawn as it is towards the ground
With whom it is inextricably linked by destiny,
Dampening it with delirious delight.
It pauses not to think of the cloud
Which loves it perhaps more, but releases it selflessly,
Only to remain a dull grey, bereft of moisture.
But pleased yet at making fertile the earth.
As a parent does a grown child.
Godspeed, my love!