I stood by the rusty railings,
of the huge cranking gate-
my gaze,
fixed on the branches all so brown;
often, bare and naked.
Seldom ornamented of-
a dangling leaf so very dry.
.

So very resembling of my lips-
A smile wry,
of the corners of my soul so dry.
Thirsty am I? -
stretching my hands;
but your water is of no use;
monsoon is awaited-
a long way off;
for now, hail brings her spines.
.

I shall stand by the tree,
looking forward-
to the thirst, that burns within
looking forward-
for you to bring me a smile
that smells of spring.