Rishita Neema, Class VIII A
If I would be a part of the cloud,
I would be mighty and proud.
Stand above all,
Without any hurdles or wall.
But I’d definitely miss,
My allies and the snake’s hiss.
Even the thoughts of ruling seem sour,
Without companions, what a bore!
And when the cloud burst,
It was the end of my thirst,
That moment, that bliss,
When I could come rumbling, tumbling for Mother Earth to kiss.
But when from my dream destination, yards away I flew,
I saw a sight – strange and new,
People running away from me,
Shielding themselves under an umbrella or a tree.
Children sailing paper boats – fun that would’ve been,
That was the scene when,
We were friends, they and me,
Those children are now drinking tea.
But it seems that some of my companions could not forget me so soon,
So they let me trickle down their cheeks,
Some sacred, consoling joy, they have not known,
For a hundred days and million weeks.
