![07f9ac5327d1d8559eb6665af89b9584.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmeKW6UEzLqPdTkHicSkMmkDMUC2bVZGsNws6srSZzhEWp/07f9ac5327d1d8559eb6665af89b9584.jpg)

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The fire does not go out.
Tears do not bloom in the sand.
The calves of the previous routes do not meet the passengers in the next routes.
There has never been a storm to save the sinking boats.
But

How attractive in the rainy season.

Unintentionally, someone has ever missed a lot.

I don't know what happens to the heart when it rains like this.
These rains were supposed to be sad for the wind.
I would enjoy the rain, don't name it.
Now the love of rain is like rain Someone does. But hands are always left empty.
Then I thought cold and hot seasons come and go.

But the season of memories never ends.

Sometimes in heavy rains, sometimes in strong winds.
There is a remembrance of you that lives in my voices.
How many people I have a deep connection with, but only your face lives in my prayers.

Remember why the person who has forgotten us complains about him.

We regret your pleasure that often the heart is deceived by someone else's words.

It rained yesterday and I sat on the terrace and started remembering the days gone by that I miss those people very much in the rain. You will love my own personal poetry.


![images.jpeg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmQRuvLvZ2HV8sANqBYTapti132kSXQfev72PMhoGhsUTC/images.jpeg)



As a lecturer in Urdu, I am very fond of writing. I started writing in 1992. And I still remember my poem of that time. Inshallah next time I will definitely share it with you. Which was my first poetry.


Thanks for reading

Special thanks 💖

@dobertim