Yet another rain drop, but its my lens to the world.
Sweet when it rains, salty when it flows over the soil of time.
Chronicles an alluvium of nostalgia and scars.
My home in the virtual world, I fondly call it, The White Bougainvillea.
She came at the dawn of yawn, I sing a yellow hello. Her voice, a bloom in gloom, Glass heels dance me to trance. Far away keeps the land of sleep, All is a coffee dream with a twirl of cream. (c) Hershal Pandya, 4 October 2008.