Last Monsoon

When the drops of rain shall deign
to cease descending on my land,
harken they shall not just vane
most sunrise but too days most bland.
Surely I shall miss most sorely
the scent of warm and humid earth,
and of my darling sweating only
to have my kisses fulfill her dearth.
Hard has been this monsoon dear,
dark have been my noons so grey,
but then I recall light so near
has never made more lifeless clay.
Pools shall linger, stand and wait
for all those steps of playful lovers,
wilted feet to warmth shall mate
and sun in greatest sight discover,
no more drops of earnest thought
nor ripple shall those mirror moons,
and all those days I dearly sought
shall depart with our last monsoon.


26 thoughts on “Last Monsoon

  1. Another wonderfully-crafted poem by none other than the Master of Elegance himself. They are so inviting, “Come, spend hours and hours reading pure bliss.”

    Alas… I shall never write my books, for at your poems go all my looks.

    1. Hahaha I have been called many things, but the Master of Elegance I fear is not among those terms. You are too kind, and I thank you for your kind words. I am utterly flattered.

  2. This scans with a beautiful cadence and rhyme. The language is delicate for the severe topic and this contrast adds perfectly to the overall voice and tone. Very elegant poetry, well done.

  3. “Pools shall linger, stand and wait
    for all those steps of playful lovers…”

    This reminds me of something. Something I read, or perhaps dreamed of, a long time ago. Beautiful, beautiful images!

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