The unwelcome patter calls

A chill comes with the drops

Seeping through all our walls

Like serpents to suck our spirits

Invisible yet overwhelming

Burdening the air with sorrow

Relentless in its humming


Rapidly ferocious & murderous

Drowning those poor blooms

Left unattended on the terrace

In need of only a light spray

But clouds are always fickle

Unpredictable in their offerings

Sometimes an amorous drizzle

Or knell for fateful endings

Note: It’s been raining the whole day in my part of the world, and while for some, such showers might be romantic, for me it’s cold and depressing. So I wrote this poem, echoing my mood.