Unravelling the rains

I'll remember her when it rains.
Her presence, a whiff of moist breeze
pregnant with the possibility
of rain. Her errant hair like wild,
vagrant clouds rooted in the wind.
Her eyes, the dark, deep sky
laden with rain, flashing with fire
when lightning strikes.
Her sudden smiles, bright as the sun
peeking through a veil of clouds.
The torrent of her words, a river
in spate, or a gust of wind
carrying a helpless leaf
far and away.

Tempestuous, as only
the rains can be. Gentle
as a drizzle one moment,
falling softly on the waiting earth,
Blinding cascades whiplashing
the earth the next. Her changing moods
mirror the swift colours
of a monsoon sky. She is pretty
as a paper boat covered with poems
that speak of rain, or a slow melody
that breaks the monotony
of rainless nights.

Seasons change, and she will
one day, go away with the passing
monsoon, leaving behind
memories of a fragrant sky,
that I shall carry into a warm winter fire,
Seeking to decipher
the mysterious monsoon,
aided by a glass of old wine
sparkling with the rememberance
of having once been soaked
in the rains.