#WritcoPoemPrompt49
#TheSummerRain
The days of slate and chalk,
Are not easy to erase,
They hold memories,
Of my childhood,
Towards the end of summer,
the oppressive heat,
making me sweat in the night,
making the plants and trees,
wilt in the clear nights.

The eastern wind breeze brings mysterious feelings
that the monsoon clouds are coming,
some strange silence deep in the ear,
sky getting darker,
the lightning flashes with the sound of thunder,
filling the heart with fear.


Time for the rain to pour,
slowly birds starts to sing their song,
flapping their wings to take a bath,
flow of water towards the street.
...