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WASHED O thy pour from distant lands; Delight of the dickens, You waddle in puddles; To splash the soul of muddles O thy pour from distant lands You are the tender whispers , On the dew drenched leaves; Of a lover in peace O thy pour with cracker Respite for the cropper; And hopes to prosper, Blooms every Harper O thy pour in rambles, Pitter patter on roof tops Shades of grey overcast; Music for the peacocks O thy pour and refresh Parched soul replenish, Life is all…
Looks like the rain gods were finally pleased as it had started to shower in Pune albeit not heavy. I stood in my balcony and looked at the rain drizzling down the alley. It had been a long wait but finally the parched earth was relieved of its thirst. The first shower brings in the smell of wet mud that tickles the senses and reminds me of my childhood. Rain for me is a steaming cup of tea that is prepared with a pinch of shredded ginger. What…
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