Last rain..

T his is,
the final rain in a lonely night..

Those last thin drops,
who struggled vainly,
to be adherent and infiltrate,
into the soul of the leaves ,
are giving up hopes,
and falling down silently
over the worn shell of an earth,
who remains aloof and estranged..

Night is awakening,
from the cool and soft memories
of its last shower,
with a hangover,
unable to feel the craving of a dawn..

Many more hours are still left alone,
to linger on,
embracing the memories,
of a moist tenderness
which came and went away
leaving inaudible footprints..

Then will come the siesta of an afternoon,
hot and sweaty
among ambivalent
radiant heat and a dusty wind..

following closely,
will be the turn of a bashful dusk,
standing,
with baseless breaches in its voice,
near a horizon,
with foot steps of blood tinged sorrows..

The season is over…

When the dampness in memories
completely dries up,
the leaves will turn yellow..
again will come the chances of an autumn ,
with falling leaves
to takeover and rule,
exposing the skeleton of trees and their thoughts..

However,
just like the rain,
it may also give you and me,
a fragment of its soul,
for keeping..