Friday, November 14, 2008


Couped up in an office building made of glass
Every wall a window, to the outside world
The world outside dancing, dancing in the rain
Trees washed green, under nature’s shower

Sitting by my table, facing the glass wall
I wonder why I am doing , what I am doing
Should I not be, there in the rain
amongst the dancing trees?

Here I am, inside a weeping building
The rain runs off glass cheeks like tears
What sorrow does the building house?
Or are these tears of joy and pride?

To make the sheets of glass stand proud and tall
Amidst the constant flow of traffic
Hundreds risked their lives,is it pain
Or is it pride they feel when the work is complete?


Hariharan said...

Wow..mam.. Loved this cute poem.

Thoughts - yours , mine, ours said...

thanks Hari.
Been too lazy to blog of late hence the delayed response!

Hariharan said...

weeping buildings... i just couldnt stop cherishing it again and again.. Normally most people metaphors rain with happiness and once when i wrote a piece abt rain (in tamil), i had quoted that "rain is actually reflections of sorrow of the women in world; but rain brings joy.. oh my god, see the world, somebody enjoys at some one else's sorrow". When my friend saw that, he commented that its an aberration in rain's metaphor. Now lemem show him ur piece :)

Thoughts - yours , mine, ours said...

Rains always mean " sweet sorrow" to me!

Hariharan K said...

Dear mam,
I have used your thought in one of my short stories i wrote recently. I have acknowledged your page :)

Will love to have your perusal