As the train throttles across tracks
and rain roars outside,
from the little window in the clouds,
the sun peeks.
A ray lights the shadowed sky,
another tiptoes over the sea.
Like the child who hid behind the door
afraid of my huge camera,
the sun covers itself with grey curtains;
maybe it fears the umbrellas?
Different colors, different styles,
a few big enough to reach the sky.
Threatened, perhaps?
Or may be it is taking a reprieve too,
de-stressing itself after a long summer,
resting in its air-conditioned room in the sky,
opening the shutter once in a while
to wave to the whistling train.
As I decode the mysteries of sun,
standing near to the gate,
I wonder if sun is doing the same,
comparing us all with stars and moon,
our rumble that of thunder
and our colors those of flowers.
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