In twilight hush, the heavens break their seal,
Clouds compose verses no poet dares steal.
Each drop—a note on nature’s trembling lyre,
Dancing rhythms spun from storm and fire.
Leaves applaud in emerald ovation,
Puddles ripple with soft revelation.
Lightning paints sonnets across the skies,
Thunder replies with ancestral cries.
The monsoon hums through windowpane and tree,
A hymn of longing, wild and sorrow-free.
It sings to hearts both broken and whole—
A symphony carved into the soul.
Where silence lived, now passion flows—
The monsoon writes what no one knows.
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