MANSOOR RAINS

The Mansoor  rains, in autumn's twilight hush,
Descend like tears on jasmine-braided hair,
A village beauty, homeward bound does trudge,
Saree of saffron, damp with cooling air.

Each drop a gem, adorning cheeks aglow,
Washing away the dust of harvest day,
A fleeting kiss that paints a dewy bow
Upon her lips, where laughter used to play.

The windblown rain, a music soft and slow,
Whispers secrets through the rustling leaves,
A symphony that soothes her heart, and lo,

The weight of day in gentle slumber weaves.
Autumn's embrace, a canvas washed anew,
A village girl, reborn beneath the dew