First, the Rain argued its case.
by Pradeep Dhavakumar
Then, the Sun reread its lines.
I sat on my balcony, on looking
and expecting the Rainbow's testimony.
The Sun preferred to rest its witness.
I lowered my view and my eyes locked
on the leftovers of a moved family:
A Blue easy Chair, with its seat
faded to Indigo; A Violet Blouse
with large printed white flowers, torn at its base;
A Red Ferrari 206GT model, without wheels,
An Orange Cap, with its logo broken;
And a Yellow toy Spade, sans its handle;
All, once, important Happiness Creators,
now merely radiating Colors,
from a large, Green thrash can.
As I sat engrossed in its beauty
the jealous Sun presented its witness
and the whole city inclined its head.
But I remained on the Garbage's Rainbow.
The martyrs were more meaningful.