Summer

When the heat is scorching
And the throat is parched with sorrow,
When the hope is wilting away
And there is no tomorrow,
The colours of life
are only grey and brown,
In the humungous holocaust of nature
happiness seems to drown,
They are the children that blossom
like Bougainville in different hues
It is a friend's call that is bright Goldmohur and takes away the blues,
The reminiscent old memories
Are the crepe myrtles
That line the orchard of future promises,
And what pulls me out of seven infernos
With its serene power,
Is your smile
The amaltas, the golden shower!!