The chill, the wanton breeze, the incredible swing.
This road that I've trodden is slippery again.
The mocking sun's weaving a web, adding shadows
in uncommon spaces, and deleting them
from the open yards.The rain, the pavements,
the backyards and the alley cats
are listening with a bated breath.
Suddenly the traffic is lulled by a song,
and the lashing of the rain stops.
A pause that everyone was waiting for,
it spreads in anticipation of a brilliant word
withheld for long in some poet's heart.
Sushama Karnik (c)
Thanks for the image Milan
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