ode to the rains

My mind revolves
As I look up
High above in the shy,
The mackerel clouds float,
The sky is all clear,
And there is no sight of rain,
Yet I can smell the rain.

My heart leaps with joy,
As if am a nine year old child,
Crushed by the summer’s heat,
I gorge into the watermelons
Throwing away the seeds,
And they stare bare at me,
Waiting too for the showers,
To fall on them,
And there is no sight of the rain,
Yet I can smell the rain.

Lazy afternoons pass by,
And I lie under the shades of the tress,
Usually reading a book,
Mostly poems of Keats and Shelley,
Sometimes I doze off,
Taking a siesta,
Then in my dream come you,
With your cool showers.
And a smile appears from nowhere.

I eagerly wait for the rain,
Much alike the famine stricken farmer,
Only my pain is less,
But the longing may just be the same,
For prickly heats kill me,
For they burn
As I rub ice on my face…

They say the rain is going to be late this year,
For that’s the weather forecast,
But deep in my heart I know
They are wrong,
For I smell the rain every where,
The magical winds bring me the news,
And it’s going to rain soon
For I smell the rain,
I smell the rain everywhere.