MY EXPECTATIONS

The world has changed with passing time,
Yet my hopes for it remain sublime—
A yearning deep, a quiet plea,
For a world where love flows endlessly.

I dream of days when tears don’t fall,
No cries of terror, no fearful call.
Eyes no longer frozen, petrified,
No guns to shatter dreams inside.

I long for a day where people don’t
Stand in queues, stretching out their hands,
For a packet of food, labeled a refugee—
A name forced upon them unfairly.

I long for nights where no one waits
For shops to close, to find a place
To rest upon a cold veranda,
Cursing fate’s cruel, heavy weight.

I long for days when hearts unite,
Where people speak of union true,
Hand in hand toward the light they walk,
To build a world both just and new.

Edit

THE RAIN

When the sky is draped in rain clouds gray,
My heart leaps up in joyful play.
Drops fall softly from heaven’s height,
Taking me back to childhood’s light.

I still hear whistles from the bush near the pond,
An invitation from boys to bond—
To celebrate the monsoon’s cheer,
And swim toward a world sincere.

Herons and storks, patient and still,
On paddy fields by the water’s will,
Shiver in drizzle, fishing with grace,
Dreaming of a delightful feast to embrace.

Beneath the clouds’ protective dome,
The earth lies draped in wet green home.
The western wind blows soft and slow,
Presenting her a diamond shawl’s glow.

At my village door, I stand and see
Their union through the rain’s soft spree.
Trees sway and dance in the storm’s embrace,
He returns home with a smiling face.

Children run to gather mangoes sweet,
Scattered beneath the trees’ retreat.
Our elder brothers plan with care,
A monsoon feast, friendship to share.

Those days have passed, yet monsoon’s near,
Time changes all, but rain is clear.
It pours from heights with harmony,
A gift of sweet childhood memory.

Edit