The Evening Gala

The occasional sound 

Of the unsteady evening shower 

Reach me through the walls.

The perky arms of trees lined clapping 

Annex beats to the music. 

The Pitter patter of the fall 

On the shed and the concrete,

The dripping wetness add a subtle note to it. 

I wake up from my open eyed sleep,

And walk to the veranda to witness the deed. 

The wind rushes to invite me to its evening gala,

Brushing against my soul

And planting a soft wet kiss on my lips.