Paper Boats
Last August's rainfall, had hardly wet the arid land,
Before I saw little paper boats in a narrow runlet.
Some queer perception of raindrops,
From under a blanketed woodstand,
Tells, there were no hailstorms; not even rainbow bands.
Our paper boats fluttered in cross alignments,
Towards the steep bed they flew,
And across some huge oak, they collapsed and 'still' they stood.
That reminds me of long gone childhood,
Folding old papers into new boats,
As they went through all obstacles, and sailed over the rainfalls.
12.08.2018
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