In the shower I remember -
rain does nothing to me,
no memory revoked,
no joke, no reverie,
only I strolling at one place,
picking up the pace with my umbrella closed
as if my eyes still need their wraiths
and writhe to remain twin ostrich heads
buried in the cold of the fear's spread.
Six o'clock waterfall, I recall
what I don't and hence I do,
and my wet asphalt avails the highway monsoon.
© 2019 Arthut.| Powered by Mckodev