A Tryst With An Indian Summer

A summer of blazing hot, Fire flames singing the face, The earth lying parched and dry, No rains, With a cry for water, water, water all around. Burnt earth, barren and sterile, The blazing sun of summer Burning it all, Scorching and singing With a rise in temperature. People daring not step outside And even if they Covering the faces With a piece of cloth As the the loo blowing it hard, Playing with heat, dust and temperature. The hot summer sun blazing it hot On the hamlets and thorps, But the blackly still cooing From the glistening leaves, The jasmines blooming beautifully And the fragrance we can during the night-time.