the words come
in floods
cambodian monsoon
season showers
pouring down
hours a day
months on end
filling paddies
and waterways
turning roads
to raised rivers of mud
soaking everything
in warmth
that cools
by degrees
as the rains
taper off
and the dry season
approaches
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loosing the binds 
this reminds me of singapour we had monsoons there when i was out there great poem
😉
Thanks.
Good memories, I hope.
yes good memorys of being dry one moment absolutely soaked through the next lol