Your Grace

Cold winds cooled the hot concrete pavements,

The glaring sun’s heat vanished when night fell,

Clouds crowded overhead like a soft embrace.

The trickling sweat dried as if it was never there.

Storms brew each night,

With thunder strikes.

Keeping track of those,

Who ignored Your calls.

By Your grace,

We are alive.

And may we,

Meet the month of delight.

The month that we try to store

As much treasures as we can.

The month where all hearts unite.

To bow only to You.

~S.H.~

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