Endless hours of pouring rain,
The rough tarred roads which used
To throw up volumes of road-dust
Now metamorphosed into Rivers
Lanes of glittering brown rain-water.
The sky has never been duller
The mood has never been sadder.
While I peep from between these
Rippling golden window curtains
I spy a bout of dampening misery.
One step into the fresh outdoors
And a muddy fragrance is about
But knee deep in flooded water
I sigh; my crumpled patience has
Inevitably reached a dead end.
Curled up into the corner near
The rainswept French Window
I listen to the mellow tunes of
Crispy melodious Sunday Classics
As he plays on the Grand Piano.
"Restlessness isn't reasonable", he said
As fluttering notes bounced around.
"You seek solace in hard-covered
Novels; soft shimmering music
And Keats' bittersweet poetry.
"You dream a lot, but don't you see?
The woman's mind is a Symphony
An orchestra of flowing emotions
Of Transience and Continuity
Echoing a Venetian Romance."
And soon the Heart blossomed
The eyelid flickered like a candle
He paused his heavenly music
The repercussions followed me
As I stood by the glassy window.
There, reflected in murky brown
Lane flood of the sprawling suburbs
Floated the ocean-blue saltwaters
Of lovely, royal historical Venice
The sparkling heart of Lavishness.
Beneath the rickety old Rickshaw van
I saw the shadow of a Venetian ship.
Glamorously cruising through the
The radiant eateries by the river,
Alive with dripping enchantments.
And as the vivid green Autos tumbled
Like creeping spotted ladybirds under the
Strangely curved storm wrecked trees
I see the little boats of imperial Venice
Wade through under the Arch Bridge.
As the rain drizzled to a pregnant stop,
Sounds of carefree drenched laughter
Burst from children riding bicycles
Splashing and splattering floodwater
As they headed out to their school.
His fingers graced the keys again,
And as the beautiful music began
I could have sworn I finally heard
The regal romantic tunes of
Extraordinary Patrician Theaters.
Echoing with laughter, blending with
The never-ending fresh showers
Crowding the streets of my city
Rising to the thunderous clouds and
Reflecting those Venetian Dreams.