Gone with the wind.

The title scented romantic.
But that wasn't the response of my olfactory receptors, my smell buds.
I smell fresh air with a tinge of grassy flavour as I listen to the razoring sound which is emitted from the field.

A week of moody cold wet week is over.
But my pants, inner wears and my tees are still hanging on that wire coated with a layer of greenish pvc.
They are still damp I supposed.
Given time, they will dry.
As Mr Sunny Sun glitters vibrantly with his powerful golden rays.

After all, there will always be sun after the pouring rain.