The concrete jungle sleeps imprisoned in artificial glass panes
Captivated in smartphones that enrich dumbness
A thunder
Some lightning
All unable to grab the attention
Of the concrete jungle concealed in artificial air conditioning
A distant petrichor has managed to somehow penetrate
Though a window left open by some lunatic gazing the moon
Drop by drop the rain splatters on asphalt roads and iron grills
A music so different from the once landing on soft soil
The pace increases
The adolescent raindrops have now matured
Into adult rain
Gushing
Swaying
Cleansing
All that were covered with dust, mud, debris
The symphony of the flow now jingles and smiles on all that was parched
Filling up all craters to their brims
A new harmony has arrived
Yet
The concrete jungle sleeps on concealed in sound proof walls…

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