First Rain - Lopamudra Mishra

First Rain

Winter is coming ,
To cover with its woollen blanket,
Every one is in joy to celebrate,
The awesome chill ,,
I remember my first rain,
That is making me insane,
In the hours of solitude,
I scarch my memory lane,
Looking from my window frame,
I visualise the moments ,
When it touched my surface,
With its fabulous sprinkles,
Amazing me with pink tinkles,
,
Germinating ample of air bubbles,
The silver wavelet that caused tipsiness,
Has vanished to the vast skyline,,
The green saplings is in need,
Of silver precipitation,
The droplets left for higher scalar ,
Towards the mountain cliff,

Leaving behind the vegetative thrill,
When winter spreads its colour ring,
I know the shower will not ring,
To my field,
Yet It tremors my lava to ,
Erupt as a volcano in the shivering chill.