Longing Poem by Aimanu B. Ali

Sitting under an old tree
I am not daydreaming of love.
The light breeze,
the gust of wind
toss my hair
play with clothes.
As they pass by they remind
how I was young and carefree.
The leafless trees
the winter blue sky,
scent of burnt leaves
floating in the air,
everything carries me to a lost world.
They talk to my restless soul
I am waiting for rain
The earth is waiting too
for the torrent,
for the smell of rain
falling like ethereal boon
on the dry dust laden soil
I am as thirsty as the earth,
languishing for the nectar of life.
Rain please come again
I do not mind the mud.