Monsoon Blues

Rain drums softly on the windowpane,
a lullaby for thoughts that won’t sleep.
The sky forgets its color again
gray as secrets we never keep.

Puddles mirror what we hide,
ripples blur a half-formed truth.
Even the wind walks slow, wide-eyed,
wearing the weight of vanished youth.

The earth drinks deep, yet stays unsaid

how longing grows where roots once fed.