Next to the flickering candle
He sat in the darkest of hours
But lo and behold in his thoughts
The Sun was shadowing the stars
It blazed and it burned
As the clouds cried the night out
Scenes of red and orange his mind churned
Thunder was the only sound around
Pit-pat, the water had risen an inch
Drip-drop, the tarmac was pleading
At lightning, he didn’t even flinch
The sands in the desert were bleeding
Page after page he sped through
Just below the silvery moon
Tales of war he had read few
And right now he was in the middle of a scorching monsoon!
I know this may be difficult to comprehend. So here’s a quick walk-through of what’s happening. In the midst of monsoon, a guy is reading a war novel, and the war is taking place in a desert. Give it one more read.
Do tell me if I aroused your imagination.
For something on the lighter side -> Weightless
One of earliest posts -> Bright Red!