Rain and cities

I loved rain as a child in Doon,
Vast, empty, parched landscape waiting anxiously
like the bride waiting for the warrior to return
She almost knew him but that seems a longtime ago.
Waiting with open bosom and throbbing heart, coy but not shy
“Drench the nymph with the shower”, I would say.
The pitter- patter would start and I would extend my hand for that elixir of life,
I missed it often and the thirsty, greedy nymph would lap it up to ease off her pain.
“Whose love was truer?
Mine, The nymph’s or the bird’s that waited a year for the first drop of rain”.
I again missed the first drop as usual, “Nymph will lap it up”, I thought
I see myself on the road, staring, perplexed, wet
Water flowing to the drain, “Someone spilled oil on the concrete road”
Anxious, thirsty, Greedy Nymph
Waiting with open bosom and throbbing heart, coy but not shy
How will it survive the thirst? Wait seems forever
‘Elixir of life’ flows into the drain
I loved rain as a child....