72 hours; 72 hours it has been.
Rain has taken no name of stopping.
He; with moist eyes looked up,
With dabbled clothes and dirty feet
He moved.
He knew, he can’t afford to stop.

The traffic light was a stagnant red,
But he knew it was an indication to hurry.
Deserted city and flooded roads
With vision dropping; made it worse
Nature had conspired against them.

The rain poured in more,
So did his feet on the ground.
The crawling changed to trotting,
Drizzling to pattering
And breathing to grasping for breathe.

His feet, her breathe and the rain
All had increased.

Almost when he thought he made it,
A mankind invention: a truck
Ferociously unknowing of our protagonist presence
hurdled through he emptied flooded ways.
to hit him.

The rain vanished.
The breathe vanquished.
Red colour veiled the streets.
Nature synced and synced well.
To end it all.


But the first rain of the season had more.
A new offspring was ready for the world.


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