Paper Rains, Purely Personal # Poem by Habeeburahman Thaliyil Abdulla

I still wish to wet in his PAPER Rains,
As I did it in my childhood.
Ah, it is as cool as hailstones
When it befalls over and above me
I am wet in his memories now.

He sleeps but speaks in the dreams,
I woke up with fear at odd hours overhearing.
He speaks with invisible beings; still I hear he whispers,
Alone till the dawn over a cup of tea.
'Memories are treasures that no one can steal'

He was crazy; he lost his senses seeing an evil spirit,
People made stories one after another.
He laughed at celebrating each moment in the rain;
If I were a child again I wish still to be lulled in his PAPER RAINS.

He owns the rain when it rains
He owns the moments he created
He owns my childhood and its colours
He made a poet if I am, at least for myself
He is the rain; to me he is the spring.


I still wish to behold his movement awestruck
And imitate until he gets angry and smiles like a chubby girl
Like a born actor blinks his expressions
Wow! He smiles still asking ‘Enthallodo Bishesham? ' *
I have never seen anyone smiles as innocently.

He speaks to the star at midnight I heard;
My imagination grew fonder in his absence.
The rattle he gifted when I cried and
My pockets jiggles still with the coins he offered every day.
All are but memory and I m wet in the PAPER RAINS he flew in the sky.
# an uncle of mine used to shower bits of paper. He was somewhat crazy.
* How are you?