Rain in the sun

Drying of the grass

Seasons changing fast,

Sweet September.


Dance on the glass

Untouched letters of the past

It rained yesterday,

I remember.


This wind pierces through me.

Autumn comforts me with its cure.


Fragment to the phantosmic

Scream of the quiet air

kaleidoscope in the dark,

Whoring slumber.


– Manmeet Singh Bhatia