Here comes the monsoon to Mumbai in the west coast/
It comes down in torrents and sheets/
Out come the umbrellas of various hues/
Women in colorful ones matching their raincoats/
Men in sombre black umbrellas befitting their stature/
Umbrella is status blind, indispensable to rich and poor alike.
I love how umbrellas seem to have come up frequently this year. Even organically.
Thanks for reading the poem and commenting
Thought-provoking; beautiful imagery and rhythm.
Thanks. I am glad you caught the rhythm