its pouring bucketfuls,
outside on the green;
I hear the rhythmic chatter,
glued to my bland screen.
not for a moment does my heart wander,
to delve into the rain;
to take lungful of the damp fragrances outside;
to feel ‘alive’ again.
Signs of urbane sanity I’m told,
humming ACs, ringing 'Blackberry s', and glowing screens;
blaring your horns, unending,
till all worldly lights are turned green.
Being imprudent I’m cautioned,
is getting wet on the grass;
there’s no time for such naiveté
when I’m yet to earn the means. ...