Thoughts On a Rainy Morning
The fury of the rain
Was unleashed on the pane
Though the glass and water looked same
They tried to each other tame
The glass was cold or calm
Was the question causing the qualm?
The rain, did it stand for anger
Or was it trying to soften this stranger?
Both for a while stood unrelenting
Till a hand threw open the windows
Letting the glass, to fury condense
And turn misty under the rain’s touch intense
Copyright © Sharmila Menon | Year Posted 2011
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