I wandered through the night, my heart a-dancing,
As silver drops entwined with moonlight, stole
The stillness from the earth, their touch entrancing.
The rain, that artist, skilled in subtlety,
Wove whispers from the sky with threads of sound,
A lullaby that kissed the ground so tenderly,
And beckoned sleeping seeds to stir, unbound.
The air lay thick with secrets, sweet and damp,
A fragrance born of earth and liquid skies,
A perfume that no mortal hand could clamp,
Yet held the power to hush the noisiest cries.
The world, a canvas for the rain's embrace,
Became a masterpiece of trembling grace.
In every drop, a world of possibility,
The rain, a catalyst for life's renewal,
It washed away the stains of dreary days,
And painted hues of hope on leaves, so beautiful.
The rain, that poet, dipped its pen in dreams,
And wrote in rivulets upon my skin,
A language that no human tongue could speak,
A verse to echo in my soul, within.
I stood in awe, as raindrops kissed the lake,
And ripples danced in circles, wide and free,
Each point of contact, a symphony of fate,
A fleeting union, yet a memory.
In rain, I found a love that never wanes,
A hymn of joy that sings in every vein.
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