Waiting in the rain,
Shall it be in vain,
The drizzle now and then,
It wasn't often.
Shall I forget the longing,
And of sweet nothings,
The ache in my breast,
Of his hands around my waist.
The droplets on the hibiscus,
As lover's last caress,
My eyes fill, hope and despair,
In the evening's gloomy glare.
Of love and its follies,
A lover's fight last night,
An empty tryst in the even mist,
Lest he forget, it's an uneven fight.
© Mathew Thomas
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