When the Morning Comes

It’s a bright sizzling summer afternoon. The doors and the windows in the house are tightly shut to block the heat wave blowing outside. It’s hot in here. I peep through the small crack between the dark curtains that hang heavy on the window of my room. It’s scorching outside. I can barely look long outside. The blistering sunlight hurts my eyes. But I cannot help looking at my carefully nurtured flowers and evergreen plants in the veranda. I watered them in the morning.  But, they are now drooping helplessly. But when the evening comes and the sun goes down, I shall water them live again…

And when the morning comes, in the cool of the day, the flowers will bloom again…


2 thoughts on “When the Morning Comes

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