The bustling wind, a storm of dust
And the skies so dark, as if colluding a plot.
A light drizzle – the monsoon forays over land’s emotions,
Taking me back to where my memories rest.
I see people running across the streets
Looking for cover from the swelling rain;
Alien to the feeling that raindrops bring
Trying to not get wet, although inside drenched in pain.
We see things but we do not truly perceive
I am no visitor to this lane,I walk this road, everyday.
I never before felt the presence, but now I see,
And there in the corner now, I saw this lonely tree…
(to be Contd.)