Hailstorm
By Prabir Gayen
Hailstorm brings the memory
Of byone days,
Where childhood days were
deep and fresh,
Nature was green with my green eyes,
Heart wasfresh like fallen sleet,
Life was no less than dream.
Hail to my aged self to go back again,
Under the mango trees to collect
Sleet – hit fruits,
Green and half ripe,
After a long decaying inversion of
Storm with solid rain,
Mind went into the cave of heart,
For unknown fear for life,
The sound of Gale subbsiding
friendly Zephyr,
Struck the weak structure.
The hailstorm is poetically perfect,
It is the sound of perfect rhyme,
The poetry that celebrated rain with small
ice gave extra charm,
Hailstorm has become a rare guest,
I wish to run with hailstorm
across the field,
With bare head and feet,
Collet the small diamond on the
grass,
That withers with no time,
Haistorm is there in the book of mind,
Like golden period of my life,
amid poverty and rustic delight.