Rain – by Malobi Sinha

The bell, it was
Tolling loudly as
Though possessed of
Ghosts of its
Own; Toll it did
Loud and strong
Pure and True
Until I woke from
Slumber to realise
That it was
Wind chimes from
The Outside coming
Through the window;
The wind pulling it
To and fro
And a storm Was
Arising as it
Must as it had
Needed to all those
Days that the Hot
Sun beat down
On the Ground
Accursed at its own
Existence. Would
It rain

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