These are winter days,
with cold places,
and colder deserted ways.
But the season of the sun,
shall soon show,
decorating the dark corners,
with a golden halo.
But i await the summer,
only because after it,
the rains shall follow.
And when the sky opens up,
i hope it pours,
i hope it pours like never before.
For that is when, i know,
you sit by your window,
and look at the world outside,
and summon the one living inside.
and i hope,
that you dip,
yourself to the brim,
and soak up every drop of rain,
and make it your ink,
and pen down every word,
you have held within.
I shall wait,
for those monsoon days,
which quench,
as well as stoke your desires.
I shall wait,
for those monsoon days,
when to write,
is all you need.
I shall wait,
for those monsoon days,
which make me,
want to read.
If only,
you would,
let me read.
