Riding On Your Motor- Bike

The breeze is blowing as the blessing of the god! The avenue of lush green is touching our hands, a series of cloud overhead... You and me- - on the bike. My body has stuck with yours and your warmth is flowing to me. The clouds above us are changing their colors... Bluish black, blackish grey with a halo of the sun behind their bay. On High way we are! The wind whistles as speed lends us this sound to our ear... You and me and the road, the series of cloud, none on the way. The painted hills stand as the guard of the forests near.... We cross them thru the serpentine paths breaking the silence of the sleeping houses. The clouds do not leave us chasing all the way with the silver line of the sun changing shapes and colors locking the light of the day! When we reach the tree-house I think, we can escape the rain, but the naughty series of clouds start dripping to drench us in the naughtiest way! One two three... They fall on my nose, on my cheeks..... The number becomes countless! ! Your body is the only source of warmth to me. The ceaseless rain and the blurred view stop us beneath a tree. The sound of the downpour, the forest, the hills become the lonely companions on this day!