There was a storm last night.
It hammered down my chimney and splattered at my window,
The rain conspired with the wind,
Gossiping perhaps: no different than my aunts and elders.
Probably like school girls
Whispering about my hair, my face, my clothes...
I looked at the puddle, outnumbered against the droplets.
The rain beat at it, it took the hits.
The wind blew at it, it gave way.
The puddle grew, but did not go away.
The storm evolved,
Shooting rounds into the puddle.
When would this ordeal end?
Determined and forgiving even in a world like this,
The puddle stayed to grow stronger.
It seemed a miracle, when at last,
The din stopped,
The sun burned through the injustice and
The storm ceased.
The puddle was finally undisturbed
Whilst I smiled at it.
There were many ways to commend it
But before I could speak,
It first spoke to me:
Endure.