By Akshara Singh (15, New Delhi)
I walk down a lane deep and dark,
Not a single child plays in the park.
The water flows with a speed not soft,
People's belongings I see aloft.
A dog on the sidewalk with puppies shivers,
A poor man under the lamppost quivers.
Raindrops fall on my umbrella with force,
As the windstorm gets increasingly coarse.
Thunder and lightning scare a child,
It says - 'Mother, it's like a lion wild'.
'Dear child, the storm shall die down,
Then, in the puddles you can play in town.'
The wind moves with speed of what seems a satellite,
Everybody in the country wants to get through the night.
Large trees and trunks lay on the ground uprooted,
Anybody out at this hour will be deluded.
But early morning everybody sees a miracle,
Rainbow and sunshine make the place look mythical.
Then everybody recalled a lesson taught in class,
It was the teaching of this too shall pass.