A Sore Guest

A sore guest Only yesterday; I heard your Knocking At my door Through window I saw a transparent Odorless soul Standing tall Covering The space sizeable And wearing an outfit Made of mud Of red-yellow kill Very practical Rather than fashionable Ceaseless it was raining The sun was setting Furious winds blowing And into the whole space Slowly and steadily The darkness creeping Waves after waves Splashing the door And I could hear The loud, terrific roar Trying to force open the door Frightened I kept indoors Full moon around And the sea sitting proud Refusing the guest To accommodate in her abode As a result The water as a guest Sitting near my door Wishing to be my overnight guest I fell asleep wearied Only to see day next The footprints of guest Imprinted large on land Anguish inflicted Foul smell left And the path slippery The sore guest made...... (Note-This is in reference To Failine storm and following Flood that devastated the Odisha Coast, India, on 13-10-2013)