Finally the little grass did grow,
Although the rain had wetted it,
It did not get wet.
Free—free form the shackles of brooding,
Free from that pensive state of mind,
And free from whatever chose to fight me.
The skies have turned azure
Even in the darkness;
I won’t let the clouds snatch away
This true bliss
And would I turn them grey instead.
A pair of eyes fell on the street outside,
Staring—until the street shouted:
“Where were you?”
And I smiled.
A pair of eyes fell on the verandah opposite,
Staring—until the verandah shouted:
“My friend was looking for you.”
And I smiled.
A pair of eyes fell on the canine outside,
Staring—until I shouted:
“Where were you?”
And it kept staring.
A pair of eyes fell on the grasses outside,
Staring—until they started dancing,
When I smiled.
