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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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Apple picking

 I wear dad's shirt

And enjoy how it drags on the floor.

I wear dad's shirt

And wear his hat

And act all tough in the mirror.

But I can be dad only for so long.

I can be dad only till grandma gets her basket

And calls me for apple picking time.

Then I dash out before her;

The shirt floating behind me like a detective’s cloak.

I dash out

And jump into puddles

And catch some apples in dad's hat.

I don't like being dad.

But I like wearing him on the outside.


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