Whe the Rain is Gone
As I sit beside the window,
Witnessing the dim sunset in the horizon,
The gloomy haze enfolds the grassland,
Delicately clothing the sky in gray,
Mysteriously obscuring the sun,
Behind the dense drizzle of nature.
Droplets from heavens above,
Moist my room's window panes,
Blurring visions of the vast fields,
As anguished winds rush berserk,
Driving the sprinkles of the atmosphere,
Pattering on the roof violently.
The old oak tree bows to the shower,
As it pours down unsympathetically,
Dampening the field and the road,
Washing away the traces of the past,
Leaving behind a fresh, new beginning,
On this soil of dreams and hopes.
The rain comes down in torrents,
And the wind continues to wheeze,
But I can smile at the natural wonder,
With an unperturbed state of mind,
For I know that the rainbow is there,
Awaiting me, when the rain is gone.
