Simple Irony

It was May.

Clouds devoured the blue sky,

And thunder sounded from a distance,

Rain was coming.

It poured from the heavens,

Quenching the thirsty soil,

Spicing the air with earth's scent.

The droplets felt heavy,

And so cold against my chocolate skin,

I didn't mind,

It soothed my burning emotions.

It was eerily quiet for a rainy day,

No birds sweetly chirping,

Everything was out of normal.

Humans were standing still,

Arms tucked in,

Their faces sheets of anger.

Not a single voice was heard,

Just the sound of rain,

Hammering the ground,

Splashing the drops in uneven paddles,

Hypnotizing every thing it touched.

In the haze of showers,

Breaking the ghostly silence,

Was a baby strapped on his mother's back,

Unconcerned about the greyness,

Smiling to God knows what.

His smile was so loud,

Against the spooky background.

He stretched out his finger,

Pointed to Nimbus up there,

And tried to catch those tears.

He caught one,

Looked at me,

And smiled some more.

Such a sunny smile it was.

Isn't it amazing?

How rain brings with it some kind of calmness?

And isn't it ironic?

How man cannot see,

What is right before his eyes?