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 May 2017 CONVERSATIONS
R Arora
Mondays were not that tough,
Although each day was pretty rough.
I knew a lot of people,
and my experience there was not feeble.
Seldom did I get bored,
Smiles were not often forced.
I wanted to be home soon even then,
But my face was never ashen.
Saturdays were the Fridays,
Homework was not an enigmatic maze.
Just yesterday it feels,
Was my first day of school;
Today, I am sitting in front of a desktop,
Trying not to be a fool.
Insults were forgotten in a blink of an eye,
In the crowd of people, now I am asking, "who am I?".
Target of the day was to win a game,
Not to chase a deadline, or escape some shame.

Why do we have to have a rebellious soul?
Perhaps to blame life for taking a toll.
It's not easy to go with the flow,
Specially, when against you, the wind would blow.
Sorry, a pessimist here.
 May 2017 CONVERSATIONS
ryn
.

    oOOo           oOO      OOo     oOo                         
oOOOOo      OOo     Ooo      OO       oOo         
OoOoO                                               Oo          
ooO            •naked feet tread                
  with nonchalance•unafraid
    of what receding tides might
       bring•hardened heels soften
         to sunlit reverence•children
                   frolick accompanied by
                              unguarded peals
                                 that ring•towa-
                                     rd the ocean
                                      vast we halt
                                     to face•we
                                  look to the
                             horizon and
                         dream of un-
                   seen lands•we
          lift one foot with
   the other in place•
is this all we are...  
just impressions    
in the sand?•      

.
I wish it would
well rain harder
I wish that
the sky water would be salty
like my tears.
this way both could slide down my face unidentifiable
I wish the thunder was louder
just to help save me from my thoughts

I love how
well simply how
I'm walking to the beat,
crunching gravel to meet the sound
of my favorite song
even though it's no longer playing
I love that
the rain is blurring my vision
eventhough I couldn't see anyway
I love that with every step
I'm taking a shower
the rain provides me with good cleansing
I'm slowly scrubbing away every
remark, laugh, judge, scar and stain
and as my jeans, blouse, and shoes get wet,
I'm washing away some of this too
hidden deep within the seams

and yet some people wonder
why
why does she like the rain
well
It's not just rain
it's a friend
that I can talk to and actually leave with
a cleansed soul.

— The End —