Looking through a window,

Not a window now it remains,

Corroded frame like it's centuries old,

Missing the essential glass-made panes.

I can see a Drizzle,

Hear music to my ears,

A missive from the almighty nature

Dropping on its biggest fears.

Concrete, cement, plastic and glass,

As arrogant as a bully obstructing a youth mild, to go to her home,

Whether generous or purely wild.

The magnanimous flow of water

In a typical maelstrom.

Not to her home; the earth it could head, nor to the lover; the cloud it came from.

Befuddled on its next destination,

It flows and flows down the slope,

With rejections from the cemented pathways,

It goes on and on with faith and hope.

It gains some mates as the drizzle turns harsh, drowning the dreary croaks of the frogs, can seep into a land in sight, towards it heads the flow agog.

With a mighty roar the flow rushes,

As all mere creatures cower, despite a struggle to get back home,

It will again leave for its lover.

~Ajay

June 2016