Vishal Dutia

Was as sweltering as August
ever was
Sun scorched
winds heavy
laden with moisture
and then
after casting 
the whole hours
a disappearing dark cloud
A dashed afternoon,
the deceit,
blown off
like a flickering flame
faltering waiting 
to extinguish with
moments and days 
melding into the next
day and then into weeks
of thorns pricking throats
in the darkness of bright sunshine.

A moment arrived
half way across 
and it caught me.

The rain came falling,
like pearls,
beating on my shirt,
wetting my arms
thighs and chest
and I am soaked.

I was at that moment,
the chosen one
I had no umbrella
or raincoat.

© VishalDutia