by Bandita Chutia
Seeping through the branches a drop slithers and falls,
Free falling; the sky burns and squalls.
It collides with the green leaf and imprints on the ground,
And the smell of the rain hits you harder than the loudest sound.
Countless memories run through the spine to your brain,
Shaking every little piece of you in remembrance.
Whatever it may be, the recollections be good or bad,
The rain copes to upsurge your deepest secrets.
The water bleeds from the top soil to the profound roots,
Does the rain reminds you something old or something new?
The greens applause when the rain touches their body,
Knowing the thirst is over and resuscitation it is.
Too much of something is never good- knows the flood;
Destroying possessions human earned by burning their blood.
Too little of something is neither good- knows the drought;
Not letting the foliage and green bud to sprout.
Drops keep falling until the rivers and seas satiate,
We sit and watch the phenomenon and appreciate-
Its beauty but soon it will be gone; it will slip away,
But another tomorrow the rain will pour again anyway.
Last updated October 30, 2015