I did not know
The wind could scatter pearls
Strewn upon my rose petals.
I'd rushed to catch winds
To bring rain upon others' parched grounds
And my own breeze died like a stream
Upon burning sands.
I'd left the rose sulking.
Its sighs had tumbled down the stairs
Reproachful at my cowardly retreat.
I must cease to think of roses
Deserted to wither on their stalks.
Their sighs could not dispel my fears.
I must wend my way like a heavy cloud
Raining tears upon the death of dreams.
Nonethess, after the rains
that seemed to linger for ever,
the skies opened up bright and clear
for another day.

 © CR Mittal

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