Thundershowers and my best friend

When you opened your umbrella as I saw you for the first time I found it rather peculiar (I thought of some French term to describe this feeling but I couldn’t quite remember it and I knew you didn’t speak French) You must have known that we were about to be showered with my enquiring mind and your authenticity. (You were using Afrikaans words that I had forgotten long ago. pity about Babel good to share a language though) It wasn’t the weather but it must have been something. Could have been anything. A butterfly, a caterpillar, a millipede. (Could have been something smaller, but your reaction gave me the idea that it was more sensible than that. We were both listening intensely…) [Cup of tea?] And for the first time I tried to reorganize the millions of thoughts inside my head, capturing your beauty slowly. Like ladybirds in the Kalahari. (How can we think of so many things without being able to express it in words? I wasn’t shy or anything like that It must have been the overwhelming feeling of ... of If only you knew, but my mouth was dry.) [More sugar?] Were you aware of the hurricane that would soon stir our cups? Approaching in a whisper loud enough to cause a disturbance in a dream. or maybe just a thought. You weren’t wearing any makeup and I could not believe how beautiful and radiant you looked in the sun. (I remember thinking: Why do you need to wear makeup that will only smudge in the rain?) [You knew something, didn’t you?] (I probably should not be so open but I swear I saw your eyes widen as you opened your umbrella. Could have been my imagination. Cold have been yours.) When the raindrops started to pour down I got a bit worried but it didn’t matter anymore. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same so I had to trust my instincts. Just another highveld thundershower. (Getting wet was more fun than anything else. I hope you felt the same. If you didn’t, I still hope you had a good time) There will never be another moment that will match our acquaintance my companion. In all probability, the thunderstorm will never be as jaunty. But who cares, because it has changed our paths Exactly as we planned it in our multi-coloured dreams. [The tea-leaves spoke the truth]