It was a bright Friday evening
Sun, the streetlight of Earth
Ready to move to his next shift
Nothing in this seemed strange
But everything was about to change
Streets swarming with people
Like aliens headed towards home planets
Like rivers running towards the oceans
To reach their nests and relish their weekend
But their dreams will meet a steep bend
And then began the thunderous trumpet
Heralding the arrival of the fleet
On dark, fluffy vessels named as
Nimbostratus and Cumulonimbus
They were here. Ready to ambush
The trumpets became louder and louder
Unaware earthlings running helter-skelter
Frantically in search of protective shelter
Some proactive ones donning shields and armours
Of colorful umbrellas and trendy trenchcoats
<<Yet to be completed>>
**My attempt at writing Martian poetry, still searching for some outlandish metaphors to complete it.
