I stood there gazing The day turned to night It was no less than amazing One can't avert the beautiful sight
Clouds enveloped the sky So as to hide its suffering They give out a violent cry After all it also needs a buffering
The violent rush of rain A view which is not so rife Just to ease out the pain To wash out the bruises of strife
Sometimes the rush is unexpected At times it will lead you to quail But this is all that is suspected So much anger, even sky cries hail
This is dedicated to the Hailstorm that hit New Delhi on a chilly winter night when almost all were sleeping in the comfort of their quilts unaware of not so rife event. I took a chance to have a look at the falling pieces of ice from the skies at the wee hours and felt like writing on the beautiful weather.
