Monsoons

The rains weave a silent story... Uncertain whether of glee or misery... The twilight is blurred by the relentless droppings... That say a thousand ethereal things...! Whether it is the revelry of rain... Or the depression of lyrical pain... The night emerges with a doubtful moon... Unsure of the mood of the monsoon...! On the ground,the leaves are spread... Like a thousand soldiers dead... And the street-light,too, wet appears... It is hard to say if these are real tears... The city still needs time to recover... From the trauma of the testing summer... But the monsoons have come like good news... However the latent motives still confuse... The streets are lonely like the skies... Like the loneliness of deserted eyes... Drop by drop,the rains keep falling... As though the earth is silently calling...! Amid the solitude and wet aura... One could see the helplessness of flora... The truth is still,largely,unclear... But the departure of summer is something to cheer... The monsoon is really unpredictable... Whether it is a dream or a trouble... Whether it is a break to monotony... Or the messenger of some melancholy....!