Years had passed since that eventful day,
And now he stood again under the rain.
His expensive suit was well nigh soaked,
"Oh where's the driver?" he groaned.
For deep inside, he desired to 'escape'
Desperation evident, not just from the rain,
But also from that thriving haunting memory.
And in this condition he stood straight,
Until he felt a shield from the piercing rain.
A large black umbrella hung over his head,
The owner's blue eyes met his with a cold gaze.
"You left your book in the cafe which" he said
"I believe was too beneath your taste,
hence you left in such haste."
With unveiled shock he looked
At the new comer and the book.
The book was truly his, old and thick.
The man brought out of the book with a smile,
An old and dried, flattened white rose.
The newcomer held it to him and said-
"You have a lovely bookmark big brother"
He stood there unmoving and still,
Oh it had to be a dream!
His little brother, who had once refused
To speak to him for ages profuse.
Now stood there with a soft smile,
With tears threatening to fall
From those beloved blue eyes.
No! he would not let the past repeat itself.
He wouldn't pain his little brother again.
In a tight embrace he held with love
The little brother he had once 'lost'.
The cloud of misunderstanding
Between them had rained away.
And thus the rain departed in style,
Leaving behind the clearer blue skies,
The moisture laden blossoms shining,
The rejuvenated rivers and brooks laughing,
And two brothers who were content to go
Hand in hand wherever fancy led them to.
