The Moody Rain Goddess In Poor Man's Sky Poem by nimal dunuhinga

It's a dark feast and stars were hidden purposely
And the Moon on vacation it seems.
The Goddess comes out through the dark clouds,
Just a small drizzle to their innocent hopes.
The poor girl is ready to go out from the ghetto with an unknown bridegroom,
A shooting star has fallen down to their journey as a chief guest.
'A good omen my dear and make a hundred thousand offspring for the next census to get temper with the blunt life.'
The bride's close relative an old Blacksmith said.