It
is tiny
and comes
down fast or comes down slow
but for long, a year or
so, cool raindrops, drowsy and reluctant to emerge out of
those dark grey clouds, held captive by the sun's army, are yet to sense the dying feel of
Earth's arms or hear its sobs,
whose echo silently creeps
up, whispering to the clouds, part with
your raindrops,
please.