Trailing I was a toddler kid
That chased a pretty butterfly,
And soon the sky flared in a bid
To shed its passion, and to cry
In joy, tears falling drop by drop,
Soon gathering pace: plop, plop, plop.
‘Rain, rain', the child screamed in delight,
‘Rain', I joined in; others encored,
Nose with fragrance, the scene with sight,
I filled me with the rains that poured,
And parched dry, scorched for long,
The land felt pleased after long wrong.
A few wet days and earth was paradise,
Ere a wasteland of dried up corns,
The barren tracks of bushy thorns
Wore a lush green garment cooling all eyes,
Soon the parched throat was parched no more,
And longing for rain soon left earth's core.
The fervent yearning as ended,
Her ecstasy no more rapturous,
Seeds in her fecund womb erupted,
The land in bliss looked just joyous,
Fulfilled, ready to sprout new leaf,
And lustrous green beyond belief!
Like rains that share secret of life,
Notso strikes hard on hidden strife.
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The magic of rain, the secret of life is never so clearly visible as in arid land.
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Images | 08.08.08 |
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Rain! ! Wet days on earth. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Thanks again for your visit, dear poet reader.