Pathetic Fallacy.

That rain.

You love.

Those pebbles.

You love.

The butterflies you fly

your dreams with.

The fireflies you light

your eyes with.

The moon.

How distant?

The stars.

Give them a listen.

The feel of the Wintry chill in the Summer.

The ever-lasting laughter, like the melody of the Thunder.

The rain.

You love.

The clouds.

We soar on.

Those pebbles.

You love.

The streams.
We float on.

The feel of the Breeze.

In the sticky, hot Summer.

The ever lasting belief.

Getting even firmer.

A Pre-Summer Afternoon's Irritation.

It is such a drowsing-ly hot day!

Like a sedated sleep with a heavy head.

The heat waves acting 

like lullabies, and 

silently killing vivacity.

The dryness of the air -

sucking away the moisture

of our very blood,

like drunk mosquitoes -

in overwhelming numbers,

swarming above our decaying brains!

The worst thing about 

the entire day is -

the obligation of the towering

amount of work,

that's actually of the size

not more than my middle finger!

That Girl With The Pink Hand-kerchief

Every other moment,

another sneeze.

Her nose flowing,

infecting the breeze.

A sniff or two,

and perpetual 'complainds'.

Just hope the cold

doesn't affect her brain!

A shudder or a tremble,

a few grumbles.

She's got such a cold in the warm weather,

not even December!

An apology

with every bombardment of bacteria.

We can empathize, 

oh yeah!

Another 'aaschoo!',

another blotch.

The pink hand-kerchief smiles and whispers,

"forget me not!"

That girl with the pink hand-kerchief,

she's the red nosed reindeer of our lot!

In Retrospect.

You called out that name
Ever so often

In your dreams

In your waking hours.

Looked up the meaning

In every dictionary available

Tried finding more

Through search engines less conventional.

That call,

Never answered.

That meaning,

Never registered.

That finding,

Never found.