In the hush of twilight, when the world grows still,

The rain begins its gentle trill.

A symphony of droplets, soft and light,

Pitter-pattering through the night.

Each raindrop whispers secrets to the earth,

Tales of rebirth, of sorrow, of mirth.

They dance upon the windowpane,

A lullaby to soothe the pain.

In the quiet hours of the night,

The rain sings songs of love and light.

It cleanses the soul, washes away,

The worries of another day.

And when the morning light appears,

The rain has quenched the earth's dry tears.

Leaving behind a world renewed,

By the whispered magic of the rain, imbued.

So let the rain fall soft and slow,

A gentle reminder of the ebb and flow.

For in its gentle, soothing refrain,

We find solace in the whispering rain.

By Liam Johnson 

From: United States