Rainter

Rainter! O my Rainter! What are you, Rainter? Are you a new season tinted by holy painter? Rain is falling hard even in this freezing winter, Everywhere disgust roams like a lonely hunter. The winter rain congeals brains, soaks hearts, With its two ice-cold hands and crying eyes. Nature is camouflaging itself in several parts To display how changing carpet of Time flies. Rainter, a fragment of Nature’s jumbled play, Is nothing but a cyclic blend of its crude tools. Some would sense it exciting, others may say “Rainter, thou art disgusting except to the fools”