With damped , soaked cold gaze,
I'm standing beside my window,
Staring at vanity,
with a dark, cloudy sky above me,
comparing how drastically,
the perception of rain has changed.
That romantic feeling,
the urge to get soaked,
and this antipathy so thrilling,
acid as if it were.
Maintaining a distance,
I'm watching the water droplets,
dripping down from the window pane,
Some of them,
sliding through the glass,
collecting some 'sticky' drops,
'Please dont leave those', I think,
They just make a scar, a stain,
in comradeship with the dust,the Sun,
The drop hurries down on its own,
changing its pace, path,
undefined, unpredictable,
gets bigger, faster,
One finishes, the other follows,
Like memories,
Numerous droplets whirled down,
But none take the way as I wish
None swip away all the 'sticky' drops,
And yet,
I see no scars !!!
Only a moment ago, I feel
I saw the same scenery,
Your eyes like the sky,
your cheeks like the smooth glass,
and those tears in chain
I was trying to wipe out
in a rush not to miss the train,
I pray its still the same,
glittering, glowing
without scars, stains
Its not deja' - vu,
its not my illusion, imagination,
otherwise, I wouldnt notice,
The beleafed, tattered,
drenched oak tree, // not sure if it was oak, :P but it WAS a winterier beleafed tree !
staring at me,
from the other side !!!
- Rabindra Rijal
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