As the rain drops fall,
The gentle pit-pat,
The slow drenching,
I go for the run.
As my curls dance,
Skin tickles and
Face being caressed,
Turn away.
When the rays ,
Warms, revives and
Thaws me;
Pull out the shades.
Walk on the grass;
Feel the verve,
Pulsate and throb.
Step onto the tiles.
As i behold the scene,
The splendour of it;
As it drugs n mesmerises,
Glance away.
Tentative,
Have always been.
Darting movements
As befits, a fish; I am.
As the bud yearns for the rays,
As the earth for the drops,
To bloom and thrive
So do I.
Few words from Tagore’s, which i guess would make some sense, somewhere...
“ He who can open the bud does it so simply.
He gives it a glance, and the life-sap stirs through its veins.
At his breath the flower spreads its wings and flutters in the wind.
Colours flush out like heart-longings, the perfume betrays a sweet secret.
He who can open the bud does it so simply.”
