Poem about rain

It is quiet tonight.

It's so quiet but still audible.

Rain is sliding down the window.

A work of art that lasts only a few seconds.

The next second is another picture.

And so for hours.

It's still quiet.

Although it can be heard leaking down the gutter.

I hear drops.

But I also hear silence.

I like to walk when it falls.

I like to think when it falls.

I like to love when it falls.

It was dirty yesterday.

Red, more brown.

They say sand from the Sahara.

The phenomenon of nature.

Well, yes.

It evaporates.

It rises high.

And it falls again, in a circle.

We can't live without it.

The source of life.

The rain.

Author: Musician

Lead image source: unsplash

Thanks a lot for reading.