The rain, the splash,
The breeze, the chill.

As I close my eyes,
memories began to form.
Though it's been two years,
it never seems to get old.

As I watched on the screen
and see the familiar storms,
I sigh, a wistful note,
knowing it's not the real thing.

I try in vain to imagine,
to get the feeling right.
The sound of the splash,
the breeze I feel each time.

But when I look outside,
I remember where I was.
The only winds I feel,
leave my skin burn from the heat.

I countdown the days
until it was time to cross.
The place where I was born,
where the rain never seems to get old.

I watch inside the car
seeing the droplets fall.
I sigh, liking the feeling.
This really is my home.

- - -

This is also another English homework that I have to do. Another poem about my culture.

This is basically about me missing the rain from the Philippines which is true. I live in the UAE which is in the Middle East and it's quite hot. It rarely rains, only raining at least three or four times each year. 

So I really miss the rain a lot, especially the feeling of the cold wind when i'm in the Philippines for vacation.