Do you remember how we used to talk about rain?
I missed you this morning
when it happened again.

The flowers once you grew
saying you'd give it to me,
do they still bloom
or died in pain...
knowing you ain't gonna bring them to me ever again.

I miss those walks
that we are yet to go for.
and suddenly it will pour,
and I'll know, it's you who prayed for it before.



© Neha Jha