she... the outpourer...

this moist cloudy western attire
like a long skirt the sky which wears
must have the scent strong
of rain soaked earth and her hair long...

she...
finding her was a discovery
amidst the din and chaos

carried panama printed dreams
all the way from Laos...

once whispered a song of desire
against the clouds so dark so fair...

on open palms caught drops from heaven
sparkling rounded beads seven...

broke out into a dance impromptu
pressing lips on glassy foggy dew...

standing on the footboard of a moving tram
hummed meghmallar to cause clouds melt down...

like a winged creature with colored flight
caught rays of broken rainbow light...

with a martini glass liquid glow
depth of an ocean brought to the show...

scraps of paper white thrown in wind
a maidan filled with billet doux unseen...

from a billboard flapping red saree
with cloud's blue monday fever married...

on glistening drenched dark asphalt
movement of bare feet by nailpolish recalled...

on yellow orange halogen lit walls
painted a big graffiti of misty smoky waterfall...

on a bridge suspended by rope like girders
with cherry sweetness prosaic existence murdered...

rang the door bell at the dead of night
planted creamy soft core choco-delite...

horizontal skyline turned vertical
with swinging treetops caused a wall street fall...

sent office goers scuttling home
all over Esplanade built a rainy dome...

this moist cloudy day of the night
brings her all in a transcontinental flight...
the thunderclaps...the lightning shadows
spray scent of her all over meadows
and hills and valleys and cities below
sing songs of her and her whims sure...

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