AN (27-03-1985 / MUMBAI)


The first rays of summer sweet,
That seeps through the winter cold
That first bit of welcome heat,
'Tis what does unfold...

Until it becomes a raging army,
And scorches land and soul,
Until it leaves us feeling barmy,
And our minds a blackened coal.

This play of seasons, spare us O Lord,
And give us spring and fall..
When each of us becomes a bard,
With beauty at our beck and call.

If not for those welcome raindrops and snow,
I'd wish my wish were true
But the seasons, they have their reasons,
And those i can never know.

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