

Torrential rain
Torrential rain, oh! I love to walk,
No need here to hurry along,
The drop is too furious to touch the ground,
I am lost in counting the size,
And relishing is it to count the drops too,
Before they reach the ground,
I know it tough to count the drops in the air,
And that I know it as lesser tough,
My sight now going to worn out to look up,
And I am coercive in reckoning the one drop, escalating the whole,
This I do for the content of self-conceit,
The drop called upon me a loser in applaud,
At the same locale, it wetted me all,
And I came to know the road as all dirt,
Arriving towards the home to leave the locale,
A beggar after a long time met laughed at my dress,
I guess because of the false timing to walk in such rain,
Mother at home called me a cleaned man once in life,
I argued being clean before the rain, even knowing the truth,
The truth is the road was all dirt as I got cleaned,
Now I can surely say, the beggar laughed at the game
between drops and my dirty clothes,
The only delusion wondering in my margin of head is,
To count the final drop on the ground was a guess with infinite.
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