it started to rain…
On the glistening green leaves,
On the stones ruining grey,
On the roofs, rusting it red,
On the nest, spoiling their dreams.
The tea seller drooling
Undisturbed by the thunders
Relishing on his wooden couch
Stalled under the raining roof.
At break of the day,
He saw two sparrows
Shading near his kettle
Alas! Their broken home.
Miles away from home,
Still drenched with memories
Of the meadows, ponds
And their huge Neem tree.
By and by he told the sky
To bring those days that had gone by,
No more a foreign in this city
Yet an unrecognized soul.
Stories sweet or sour
Over a cup of tea or two
Mattered nothing to him,
For all he cared was to earn a living.
Round the corner of the year
The festivals knocking
The only thoughts hovering
This year, things will be changing.
“While trying to make a house,
I forgot to live in that house.” He thought
The sun came out
Leaving behind the steamy soil.
A month and a half left,
To return to the dwellings
The old ones once more
But not as cosy as before…
Sound of the drum beats
And Catkins all the way home,
Was what he wanted to see
Apart from the smoke’s hazy sight.
The autumn’s golden sky
The scattered clouds at night,
Yet he could only embrace
The embers from the dark coal burns.
Summers come and go
While Autumn’s flower bloom,
Somewhere deep within
He knew he forgot about the rain.
