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Loud Rain

The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
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You are

 You are

An orange butterfly on blue pebbles,

A humming bird opening to hug a flower,

A kiss given in a dream.

You are

A patch of land in the middle of a river,

With a single tree;

Beautiful in its loneliness,

Lonely in its wildness.

A ripple in the water,

The soft touch of a potter's hands.

Sitting in an old car

On a ledge

With the birds and the rising sun.

The warmth,

The colours,

The mood that makes one want to kiss.

A stalk having is single petal,

Still called a flower.

A hand without a finger

Is still a hand.

There’ll be

More butterflies,

Hummingbirds,

And kisses.

There'll be

More kisses,

More hope...

 


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