Oh! My Dresses

The dresses hang out in the garden.
Intermittent showers make them wet.

Left them as they are damp.
The rain pours non stop.

I watch them from my courtyard,
water drips from them.

Fearing heavy down pour I collect them.
Dry them in the closed veranda.

I lock my backyard to find the Sun shining.
My efforts turn vain.

Does it happen to me alone?
I deliberate.



By meenas17

A lover of classical Carnatic music.
An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood

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