Sunday, 30 July 2017


The road is fresh and wet with rain,
While the car barrels like a bullet train.
Out of blue the sky pours down again,
On the road trying to hide but in vain.

The fields alongside are lush with paddy,
Beautiful are those transplanting ladies.
Thunders rumble, the sky darkens ,
I open my parasol , yet i feel shaken.

Ahead of me a lady is walking quick,
Bare under the rain she look wet and slick.
Hairs long and the jeans tight, sandals red,
Ratatat of those sandals , slip into my head.

I wish she turn her back , so I see her face,
Atleast I hasten my steps ,so catch her apace.
From under my blue colored umbrella,
She looks troubled like a poor drenched Cinderella.

A Car comes pass me and pull over near her,
I watch as she hop- in to vanish like thin air.
Over the bent on the road afar,
He gets away with a Cinderella in his car.