When the sky inspires, the breeze whispers a story into my ears, the stars look at me in amazement waiting for me to talk to them and tell them how was my day, and the branches of the tree in front of the house, they sync their movements like they are dancing to the tune of a song, the lamp posts scatter their lights in all directions, shadows falling on the floor making like-able patterns. Somewhere far away, in a land where it’s raining now, a small kid peeps out of the window gazing at the dark outside. With the moonlight, that is now, everything’s shimmering in the dark. Like a gold plated image on the paper. The tipper tapper of the rain drops on the roof sound like a Beethoven’s symphony, and the family is cuddling around on the thick grey carpet in front of the fireplace, that little kid who has just learnt to crawl, look at him, he is trying to run away to his brother near the window. The curtain just dropped back, i could see only this from outside. Perhaps, they are all singing together now. I can hear them laughing and giggling still. The garden, in front of that house, ah! just look at that. It’s smelling of earth. I can breathe that fragrance into my lungs forever. Look to your left, there is a cat too, hiding behind that red flower pot on the porch. She might just consider staying put tonight. It’s getting colder now, i am almost drenched. I should get back home before i catch a cold. Why don’t you let me hold your hand and i will take you back to my balcony. It’s pleasant out there, not that i dislike rains and winters. But you know, like i said earlier, this place, the porch of my home, where the sky inspires and the breeze whispers a story into my ears. I like being there the most.