My Village Rain
Drip
Drip
Splash
Drip
Drop
Drip
Drop
Moistness fills the air
After quenching the demand
Of the dusty land
The cot made with rope and wood
Shifts as you sneeze
Then you hear a cow
Moaning softly to the breeze
Rain in a village: a celebration in store
Laughter rings out; spirits soar high
Grandmother makes a steaming veg fry
Rain in the village: a therapy to the soul
It cleanses and refreshes
The entire village as a whole
I the city, I see people scurry
Scurry like insects in the face of a storm
I wonder as they drive through life
Entirely in the fastest lane
If the city people ever come to know
The beauty of my village rain.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.