A Lone Heart Moans

I sit by the window pane,
To watch the dewdrops drain.

Aroused by the sound the guitar strings make meanwhile,
Cacophony for some while a melodious tune wrapped in bewitching bewildered for a musicophile.

Not a melomaniac, but crystally an adorer,
Music lifts up thy mood in a hover.

And, as the monsoon wraps by,
And its Autumn to shed,
I start to stir the window pane down,
For until it's next monsoon rep.