Rainy Peshawar

(Just another of those random 2-minute creations.)

It all starts with a “tip tip tip” like a baby tip-toeing on cold marble floor.
Then it increases to a “sharr sharr sharr” like a coin jar toppled over.
A whiff of wet soil rises up in the air.
The aroma of wet leaves spread everywhere.

The cloud grunts and rumbles.
The mountain and valley grumbles.
The kids jump under the falling stars,
Forgetting all the sorrows and closing open scars.

This is how it rains in my city so divine.
Washes all the dirt and removes all the swine.
Purifies the streets of all the disease and blood,
Its wrath can turn into an unforgiving, revengeful flood.