Its been a routine
Strolling back home
Amidst a crowd of home going walkers
Each umbrella, carrying
And dropping the rain
Her fall from the height
Helped by the rigid curve
That she didn’t drop with a thud
Mingling among identity losing pond
Into which submerged all our shoes
And then another, same fall
Same curve and same fate
Drops anew and anew, I walked
This drop is nt the one
That curved to death yesterday
People I keep encountering
Some that day, some today,
Many others tomorrow
Varied and new
Life is filled with surprises, with them
Smug with my philosophy, I walked
But wait… a question struck
Where do these puddles below vanish?
I looked up… oh God
They are all the same..!
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