MONSOON.

Deceitful weather forecasts, they often say,

As the monsoon approaches, in a mysterious way.

Dark clouds gather, a tempest on the rise,

A dance of raindrops, painting the skies.

The parched earth longs for a refreshing touch,

As the monsoon whispers, "I've missed you so much."

The anticipation builds, a bated breath,

Will the forecast hold true or deceive us, like death?

And then it arrives, with thunderous roars,

The monsoon descends, opening nature's doors.

Raindrops fall, like tears from the sky,

Quenching the earth, bringing life's reply.

The rhythm of rainfall, a symphony so grand,

Cleansing the air, washing away the land.

Petrichor fills the air, a scent so divine,

As the monsoon paints a picture, oh so fine.

With each droplet's touch, life is reborn,

From barren fields to blossoms adorned.

The rivers swell, flowing in mirth,

A monsoon's gift, a blessing on earth.

But beware the deceit, for it lies in wait,

As the monsoon's fury may escalate.

Floods and storms, a tumultuous display,

Nature's power unleashed, in its own way.

Yet in this chaos, beauty still resides,

In the monsoon's artistry, love presides.

A reminder of nature's cyclical embrace,

As the monsoon whispers, "I'm here to grace."

So, embrace the monsoon, its mystic allure,

A season of wonder, a moment pure.

Deceitful forecasts may come and go,

But the monsoon's magic, forever shall flow.