My eyes held more than the Caspian Sea after a

summer storm.

They’re deep and dark, but brilliant and the color of

caramel.

Freckles dotted my nose like the first few drops of

rain on a dry sidewalk,

The drops that challenge the pavement at the start

of a cloudburst.

My hair cascaded down my back and over my

shoulders like a waterfall,

Flowing quaveringly with ripples and waves.

As I sipped my tea that I held tightly to my chest,

I stared at the heavy downpour outside.

Each translucent bead of water descending from the

somber sky.

My entire house smelled clean.

The reviving scent quenched my thirsty soul.

I breathed in the crisp clear air and it filled up my

lungs.

And I sighed, allowing my worries to be washed away

with the rain.

It was as if tea was created solely for rainy days.

As if tea may have even been invented for this rainy

day in particular.

And tea complemented this rainy day, perfecting it.

All was peaceful.

All was completely still.

And at that moment in time, everything was right in

the world.