I stand at the frosted french window
Prim and proper, feeling limbo
With steaming coffee in my hand
And other in the pocket of my pants
I stare far at the pitter-patter rain drops
The grey cloud, and the tiny little shops
The city wears such a gloomy look
Like doom just overtook
I feel so sleepy
Work is making me weepy
Coming back to work after a vacation
Feels nothing less than a retribution
Nice little poem that gets one to really feel the rain!
ReplyDeleteThank you Rajeev :-)
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