She counts them, when can catch up, one by one.
She marks off: transparent, blurry ones...
Impetuous, hesitant...observes their behaviour.
Admires colours: greenish, caramel...
Elliptical, sphaerical...assorts their shape.
She imagines watermarks: Ηydras, aquatic different...
Appeals, messages...the hits on the window glass.
She feels like opening it to let them in,
so that not to crash their faces on the invisible obstacle
like undesirable visitors,
to wellcome them at her living room
and let her armchairs fulfill their own destination
neglected for so, so long!
Oh, she likes raining so much.
She is crazy about raindrops.
She expects them.
She likes them changing her idol behind the glass,
the transparent mirror.
They make it seem moving into their watery world.
She likes that new active idol of hers.
It's time she does not bear, day in - day out,
her own idol, the known one, all the same, worn out.
Oh, she hankers after them.
She 's fond of them, of the chance to live
into their own world,
into a moving world.