‘Wait for the storm to subside,
It will not harm you.'
My well-wisher said.
He had accompanied me
To face the storm coming from the east,
We were wet and cold
While standing at the Marina Beach
And watching the storm roll out its fury.
It was my first experience of a raging storm;
It lost steam only in the wee hours.
A coffee-vendor was already there
on the sea-front with his wares.
We preferred to return to our lodgings.
I felt the sea storms looked more beautiful
When painted by Rembrandt or Ivan Aivazovsky
Or Joseph Mallord William Turner or Thomas Moran.
Here it all seemed very loud grey and wet to me,
As though the sea had forgotten to invite me.
Sitting in the room sipping coffee I decided,
I should not wait for any storm again.
Wednesday, September 23, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: thought