I stood there gazing
The day turned to night
It was no less than amazing
One can't avert the beautiful sight
Clouds enveloped the sky
So as to hide its suffering
They give out a violent cry
After all it also needs a buffering
The violent rush of rain
A view which is not so rife
Just to ease out the pain
To wash out the bruises of strife
Sometimes the rush is unexpected
At times it will lead you to quail
But this is all that is suspected
So much anger, even sky cries hail
This is dedicated to the Hailstorm that hit New Delhi on a chilly winter night when almost all were sleeping in the comfort of their quilts unaware of not so rife event. I took a chance to have a look at the falling pieces of ice from the skies at the wee hours and felt like writing on the beautiful weather.
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