The afternoon rushed towards
the evening's horizon.
In a moment the day breathed its last.
Clouds floated to sheet the dead
The wind howled like a wolf
mourning its lost past.
From some corner of the world,
frogs croaked.
The wind carried the funeral song
of the cicadas,
and the cresent moon peeped from the sky
into the curdling gloom.
As I stood under a darkening sky,
rains poured from my heart -
My participation in the settling doom.
---- Srutimala Duara
Beautiful ma'am 💙