My present dwell :
The tears of the sky touches seldomly
Leaving me with the sun's pounding rays,
Its unbearable flame
My pores ,at the glare
Of the post meridian light– a river

The wind therein
Flings at me its burning gust
Causing my weary eyes to flicker,
Flickering a dying flare

And when cold, zillion goosebumps
Race down my body;
Quavering my pouted lips
Like a vibrating iron string.

Every fiber within prickles to see its source
To find solace in Mama's arm
To feel Baba's caring pat

Yet, days I breath on gets long
Nights stays awoke;
Won't leave posthaste
Tick-tock, tick-tock,
Faster is the snail