Though I have never seen you,You dwell in the quiet recesses of my heart,Like flowers blooming after the storm’s embrace. I call you God of Rain,For your presence is a tender melody,Whispered softly through the heavens above. Are you real,Or merely a fleeting dream I’ve yet to meet?Still, I wait beneath the cloud-stained sky,Hands open to the hush of falling grace,Hoping one day your rain will find me. -Rtr. Tharushi Dineshika
He bloomed like the yellow flowers on the street, Next to the pile of rotten leaves and weed. I do not remember the name, I knew once when I was younger, More innocent and stupid. The petals were far apart, And there were no pretty butterflies to suck its nectar. I went to smell it, for the bright yellow enticed me, But there was nothing. All I smelt was the wet concrete of the road, And my feet with slippers were covered in mud. The rain poured from above, crashing onto my frail umbrella And the wind started to blow. But the petals never fell, And I didn't want to go. -Rtr. Vibhavee Sarathchandra