Raining Drops Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

The rain drops
Behind those eyes,
And the flood floods
The red hot cheeks.
No handkerchief there
To embank the drops.
Then the drops drop
On heated fruitless soil.
Grass is there, though
The colour is not green.
All grey, looking too old.
Drops after drops drop,
Sometimes with colour red,
And then the kite sings
The note of Nightingale
With perfect harmony.
Soil sucks the blood
With blacken happiness.
The darkness melts
With call of raining drops.