Picking metaphor from the old urban street,
Wet road resembles washed away tiredness.
Fresh is the nature after soaked clouds have disappeared.
Washed is the floating simile like a paper boat floating quietly in exuberance,
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Even after the rain has stopped.
Noisy gully leading to a quiet park
Muffles and also soothes the clatter
If heard in minuteness against the darkness of nature with its own spark.
Like on a moonlit journey and starlit embark,
When seconds are longer than minutes and minutes are longer than hours, and when
The only time that ticks is paused in the beat of heart.
