The rain has gone

The rain has gone, the balcony dried
the dust and mud makes few marks.
the newspaper on the balcony was wet
and now has dried, it makes a silhouette on
the broken bricks, its no use now.The day
is pale again it was just bright some
time back, the clothes had been getting wet
again and again and have now dried.
The grass has grown way too much. The paint
on the gate wears off that part gets rust,
the railings are also rusted. The old Murky
doesn't enjoy any more. The sparrows are not
coming, the flower women has not come. Away
a little far, I hear the pray, its a mosque in the
town a few kilometres away. The gulmohurs don't
flower now and neither the marigold.
The morning tea is watery but Mrs. Sharma
never fails to serve it with pista biscuits to Sharma Uncle.
She knows he likes it that way.