Poetry from Don Bormon

Young South Asian teen with short brown hair, brown eyes, and a white collared shirt with a school emblem on the breast.
Don Bormon

Whispers of Rain

Raindrops tap gently on my windowpane,
A soft serenade from the gray-skied domain.
They dance and they play, a liquid ballet,
As if the heavens weep in a quiet display.
Each drop a memory, a tear from the sky,
Falling to earth, bidding sorrows goodbye.
They kiss the leaves, caress the ground,
A symphony of solace, a healing sound.
The rooftops shimmer, streets come alive,
Petrichor rises, memories revive.
Umbrellas bloom like colorful flowers,
Shielding dreams from the tempest's powers.
In the city's rhythm, rain finds its beat,
Puddles mirror reflections of souls incomplete.
And lovers seek shelter, hand in hand,
Their laughter blending with the rain-soaked land.

Don  Bormon is a student of grade nine in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

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