Water seeped fast through the tall drainpipe,
muddy pools of liquid inhabited desolate patches of the street,
bed sheets of road dust were drenched in the inclement showers,
smudged portions of leaf glistened with water droplets,
a distinct aroma of freshly bathed mud rose in the air,
the birds chirped violently amidst the drifting clouds,
as the sky now disguised in devil black wept like never before.
semicircular skin with coats of light red,
blended with crushed lead graphite powder and tinges of pink floral paint,
fell down, on the immaculate floor polished with molten wax,
diffusing into minute particles with the blowing wind,
licking the periphery of Arabic marble with coal grain,
as i sharpened my bonded pencil,
with vociferous strokes of the razor switchblade.
i then took a huge white canvas cloth,
natural oil paint derived from tree bark and virgin clay,
prepared a concoction of color paste and tap water,
sketched the grey clouds colliding with passion,
olive green bunches of wet tree leaf,
the thunder showers of torrential rain pouring down,
the backdrop of sun smiling behind the clouds,
all i used was my sharpened pencil, and a thick water brush,
dipped in natural extract of mixed color.