Oblique Rain

Like a million hands reaching out in vain, 

With the wind its crutch and cane,

Down came the oblique rain.

Whistling windows make the curtains blush,

Streams of sand slither down

a half-eaten watermelon upon the windowsill. 

All cloches lifted; Old wounds served anew.

Indelible blots of ink run like little black ants

Across sheets of half-written poems.

Her droopy dungarees in the balcony flutter,

Like the lone spotted dove sheltering behind the lampshade. 

Yellow leaves gather at the doorstep

A year's work of forgetting wasted.

Capsized paper boats drift ashore

Laden with washed-up promises.

Fifteen steps they said; to deep-six my pain, 

To be followed meticulously and methodically; 

Little did I know that it was all in vain.

Fish-bone tears now dislodged,

Find harmony with the rain.