Marigolds

Like distant Sunflowers on a monsoon eve,
Yellow street lights glow in the foggy cream,
Eagles hover in the sky with widespread wings,
Searching their breakfast and eatable clings.
Dew drops on tin-sheds glow like pearl balls,
And piercing the fog a beam of light falls.

There are dogs itching and commuters running,
Uncles jogging and little school girls mugging.
Chimneys emit puffs of black cloud,
And vehicles honk, bold and loud.
Sparrows chirrup in the background,
And labours defecate on a mud mound.

Sky touching towers stretch cable lines,
And a few teenagers giggle to B.B ki Vines,
Pigeons flutter in a struggling flight,
And I see sleep deprived faces all around, in my sight.
In polished boots and an ironed shirt,
A young lad attempts his first flirt.

She giggles at him as he passes by,
Nevertheless, his hopes are high.
In those some minutes the sun scorches bright,
Awaking the world with its daylight.
Soon these dew drops will evaporate,
And somewhere soon on the crossroad those dogs would mate.

Saffron clad men bow to the morning sun,
While the teenagers are drowned in fun.
The pigeon lands with wings stretched,
And the lad reveals Marigolds with a rose meshed.
She laughs even louder now,
He realises the proposal went wrong, but how?

His friends point at those Marigolds,
And he embarrassingly hides them in his shirt's folds.