The Rain

Tippling down from the eaves,

like a wine glass overflowing its rim;

it undulates.


At times trailing a path from the roof,

At others cascading down wilfully;

It surges.


The sodden dusk bemoans, decries

Separation from its lover, the sun;

It pelts.


Sometimes it beats a staccato rhythm

tattooing its presence on the window;

it rages.


At others like a soft eiderdown

It wraps in an embrace; in a mist

It coats.


Sometimes it serenades the night

Sings to it, lets it intrudes as sleep;

It lulls.


At others it thrums, drums and batters,

Pummeling the night into discord;

It roars.


Then spent; it sighs, deeply, and with

A profundity it slackens its shackles;

It sleeps.

About Sonal Singh

I believe that life is a repertoire of anecdotes. The various situations that we encounter, the many incidents of every day, the people we meet, our conversations with them; all make life a melange of tales. And, that is what I attempt to capture through my writing. My cooking is no different! It reflects my love for travel and my love for innovation. The kitchen is my happy place. So, even though by vocation I am a recruiter (, by passion I am a writer, home chef and a hodophile.

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