Romance.

On a black porch of an exactly opposite coloured house sat an 18 year old boy, wearing a sleeveless banyan, basketball shorts and geeky glasses with a slightly ruffled mohawk of sorts with a faraway look in his eyes observing the ominous clouds and the lights of the skies, fascinated by every white coloured zigzag, every monstrous boom and every small rain droplet.

All these factors coming together to give life to all this beauty, making you fall in love with what little of this world we see.
Its just romantic.
Gives a sense of serenity. A sense of peace proclaiming that Mother Nature's got you ass covered. A void in your life where you're allowed to introspect and reflect. As if its a void in everything asking you to "calm your tits" and feel alive again for a moment.
And just about then, we are given a beautifully timed kick up our glorious arses and hauled back to all the chaos of the grim place called REALITY.
And for most of us, the momentary peace and serenity just wisps away. Leaving us alone. Leaving us to the world.
As the sky slowly fades to black, to a point where the boy could only see white streaks up above, his eyes focus back and he goes back in and closes the door.
To all the zigzags across the black night.
To every monstrous boom.
To every rain droplet hitting solid ground.
Then again, all of this, ofcourse, only makes sense to those who choose to see.