Arnab Deka

The rain poured on the tin roof at midnight.
The distance of a breath separated me,
From the rain that I have been waiting for forever.

Hands clasped, the rain crashed.
The dormant words, the dried lamentation.

The space between myself and the rain narrowed down.
The decade-old chase was nearing to an end.

The rain still poured on the tin roof.
A billion stars arrived to witness,

With thunderous applause.
The rain fell upon me slowly,
On that midnight in Kalga.