First Rains

By Harsh Casturi

Breeze flew down that empty street,

Withered leaves, blew and crumbled,

The sounds of whose, heard by the beat,

Wishing for rains, it skipped, tore, sought a ‘feat’.

That empty street once held a promise a love,

Walking down the lanes, reprising in lost echoes,

Taking the long strolls in the storms, entwined,

Those hands, portrayed the rejoice of our times.

Times changed, yet the breeze blew with slight hope,

First rains whose petrichor soothed mind to cope,

With ever changing seasons of the love and desire,

Heart was healed and filled with joy like wildfire.

By Harsh Casturi