Reading the Cold Rain in Early Spring

     Silently, down fell the cold rain in early spring. The rain in Qingrning triggered off little ripples in my heart. Chasing her, I could only catch her voice, softly and gently calling my name. I rushed to the window only to find nothing because there was no light in the little room. No lamp, no moon, no stars. I was the only one hanging up till midnight to meet her who was now falling lonely with nothing to reflect her transparent beauty.
     Fluently went her songs, without impatience.  No thunder was pushing her down. Then, she flew leisurely, sprinkling little diamonds in the sky or onto the ground, and even didn't for get to wash my little plants.  How careful she was! The black sky was washed, just like a mirror or a piece of marble.  It seemed that water would come out if you touched it.  Surrounding me was the cleaned air with a fresh smell, as pure as water,as elegant as white lily.
     I knew she was coming. I knew it from the overcast sky,from the moisture in the wind.  The moist air and clothes also wet my heart. I was waiting for her. Then she came, quietly and chilly on this cold spring night. I won. I won the happiness that could not be shared. Few people could read this eternal melody when small raindrops hit the ground.
     Ah! I nearly forgot my flowers that had just begun their lives in light pink or white, not beautiful but really lovely. Were they still alive? Or, were they now shaking their slim bodies in freezing water, bearing the beating of the rain, and calling me to save them? Soon the songs of rain calmed me down. It was unnecessary to be pitiful for them, as their souls were cleaned, and now rose up to the heaven.  The most beautiful memory of a flower was not her blossom, but the journey in the air  leaving the branches, flying with the wind and eventually falling to the ground. It was where the circle ended and also started. If I could get a chance to live on a small tree, perhaps I would be eager to fall down now. That was a ceremony for me, with pure water and fantastic melody.
     I felt myself falling, not to the place I was born but to a whole new world I had never been to  my dream  a dream shared with my flowers and raindrops. I was so lucky staying up till now to encounter this rain. I couldn't help being moved by the raindrop, which proved her existence by her sudden disap pearance. I could not control my feeling: sad, happy, agitated or quiet? I just could not tell.
     There is always an ending for the rain like a meteor that never remains in the sky.  Next morning we'll face the early spring again. Maybe some flowers will have gone with the wind,and maybe the rain water will be sleeping deep  under the ground. They will remember the girl sobbing for them. They will remember the lonely lamp in the darkness. I am sure.
     Day breaks. Being alone, I feel I have lost my love, as well as the sweet experience on the cold rainy night. All I have is a lasting memory.