Rain taps softly on the windowpane,
A silver song, a gentle refrain.
Clouds drift slowly across the sky,
While city lights begin to sigh.
The streets wear mirrors made of gray,
Reflecting dreams that drift away.
Umbrellas bloom like flowers bright,
In puddled paths beneath the night.
A warm cup waits beside the fire,
Carrying comfort we quietly admire.
And in the hush of stormy weather,
Hearts and memories gather together.
For rainy days are not just gloom—
They teach the quiet soul to bloom.
In every drop that falls above,
There lives a little note of love.
No comments:
Post a Comment