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.

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