Tales of the Wanderlust

Rains are more beautiful in my home town. the anticipation and wait make it sweeter. Over there it is relief, it is change It is a new beginning. It is the end of summer that saps energy and life out of us. The showers in wilderness Downpours in concrete jungles Mild drizzle in the mountains Or lazy rain of the countryside nothing of these are as spectacular as the rains that flood my city and make our lives tough. Yes, the rains are more beautiful in my home town, Because when the rain comes down  it brings memories of running to get wet  with a blue plastic bag on our heads. and because along with the scent my soil Rises my past When I believed that I can make my paper boats Sail to the sea And across to foreign shores.

If all world is a stage we started acting  at a very early age. only that somewhere down the line we forgot to stop. In this jungle of  tropical insects hungry for food, In this garden where bees are eager to suck or to sting We too are flowers our petals shrivelled and souls frozen.