Dancing in the Rains

Deep behind the branches, lost in the amaze of the transcendence of the sun, there lay to rest the shadows of those moments and the hidden fun, amidst all the odds, the gazelle was free within the boundaries, spirited, wild and free, ran across the jungle to catch a glimpse of the frivolities.

Laying off to the turns of the waves of the center lake, sipping the thirst momentously with the thought of a much-needed break,

miracles and the constant efforts of fighting the way through, the game was ongoing and the sufferings were a result of the chances he blew.

The glared bridge beyond the trees through the passage of darkness, contemplating between the inner desires and strings that bind the lives aimless, fielding the love, yet insipid, lacking the essence of the lost times, the heart had become too weak to battle the self-inflicted crimes.

A stray walk, crunching the leaves, and collecting the air as chances went by, laying the dead to rest, detest and arrest the thought to die, the story had yet to be written, free to snap up the chains, for he could understand the real joy of dancing in the rains.