Monday, February 4, 2013

Petrichor

The leaves rustle
clapping in joy
like the school children
in blue, hopping back home.

The air is cool,carelessly pinching
my skin not covered by
a claustrophobic cardigan
life moves on
as I see buses and cars
disappearing with the wink of an eye.



Two sparrows bathe in
puddled potholes 
brushing their water wet wings
The clouds shaping
to sob
call the
the February rain home
six years later,
As a silent spectator
I have seen life pass by
and the rains.



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