Drop by drop, water is condensed,
minute by minute, rainbow starts to bend,
each and every day, the Sun bright as hay,
is turning into a mist, deep down myself
The flowers , which once bloomed,
are withered, no one groomed,
the cactuses, with pincer like thorns,
are contributing, to my helpless mourns
The day, full of sunshine,
is no longer divine,
to me, it's night,
without the moon for a guiding light !
©harisamir
H