The First Rain

Seated at the window, with a steaming cup of coffee,

Lost in her thoughts, she seemed sloppy.

The first raindrops of the season trickled down the window pane,

Drawing circles at the foggy glass pane,

She nonchalantly travelled down the memory lane.

Unsure if it was bliss on her face,

Her eyes seemed transfixed to a faraway place.

A deep breath and she flipped open her phone,

Rummaged through her contact list for a number well known.

She dialled the number, but disconnected without a ring,

She stared at the screen for a moment, and shook aside the sudden feeling.

Her eyes were shining,

And heavy was her breathing.

Bolted open the door, she walked out in the rain,

Aimlessly she wandered around, hoping it would help subside her pain.

Nostalgia hit her hard,

She was caught off guard.

Every tiny drop of the season’s first rain,

All her efforts to stay stable goes in vain.

For her love for him was just like the first rain

Where everything was so beautiful and green.

While he left her forever on one of those rainy weather,

From that sorrow, she still couldn’t get over.

Clinging on to those leaves of past which had long ago withered,

Every rain, she turns into a mess, sweetheart!

©Arpita

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