Umbrella

It was raining.

And I, without a guard,

Was drenched.

Was cold.

And she came.

Her footsteps, splashing,

Making way through the rain on the soil.

And her damp, loose hair,

Carrying an irresistible fragrance.

And there was rain.

More rain.

She held an umbrella.

Guarding her against the onslaught,

It kept her safe, kept her warm.

And the dots all over it,

Were all moist.

Due to rain.

More rain.

The dots kept moving,

Splattering against the rain.

And seeing me drenched,

The dots took me in as well.

Now it was I and her.

And the rain,

More of the rain.

Her lips, brushed against mine,

Her fingers, mingled with mine.

Her hair, softly nestled against my fingers.

Her warmth, took over my coldness,

Her fragrance, took over me myself.

And I, was simply moving with her,

Alongwith the dots.

And with the rain.

More of the rain.

The sky, all too murky before,

Had cleared up a bit,

And we had then found a place,

To carve out a little rainbow of our joy within it.

But there was the rain,

Still more of it.

A year's past by, now,

There's the rain, yet again.

But the horizon,

Has clouds covered all over it.

And the sky,

Remains murky.

And all I do have with me,

Are the smiles carved by that time,

And the umbrella,

Carrying her fragrance,

Still a bit moist,

Laying by my side.