Open your mind young lady, let me impregnate your barren dreams with the moist seeds of my philtre desire. An internal monsoon awaits, to cleanse us, drench us with our unalloyed fire.
A tentative monsoon, reluctance in grey cloud cover; though impregnated with vapour, hovering, weighing its options, before showering its benevolence, birthing new seeds, drowning old nightmares.