The skies hang heavy, the clouds ready to burst,
I look upwards in ready, waiting for the rains to quench my thirst,
But the greyness just teases, as the dark clouds come and go,
My brows furrowed along their creases, I wait for when rainwater, in its gushes, o'er these roads would flow,
I sit by my window, cool gusts of wind in my hair,
Staring at the potential show, that the monsoons threaten to lay bare,
And then the first drops fall, followed in earnest by the first rain,
Right then, for me, the world does stall, and I'm lost in the magic of the monsoons, all over again!