IT RAINS WITH EXPERIENCE

it cascades with inundating retrospect,
In pants we caper around,
Questing for ice, melt with cold chill,
Happy childhood, in peace we live in our hood.

In retrospect,
It pelts with heavy patter,
Frolicking with intense ecstasy,
Reliving the past... A urge... A fantasy,
The coldness... A body boon
Sating our cravings with chirping patter.

The deluge unearths the pent up flood of memory,
Fluid is the past, trickling in very fast,
Never miss your pristine boyhood in your hood,
The puddle, the rivulet... Our Make-shift pool,
We savour, we wriggle in our collective puerile fool.

Inside we perch afterwards...with cold,
In multiple sheets we shake in folds,
Fluid is the past, trickling in very fast,
Never miss your pristine boyhood in your hood,

Albeit in age we have grown with a heavy frown,
Responsibilities assailing... With life we grapple in droves.