In the land where the sun does dwell,
nature’s whims begin to rebel.
From heavens high falls a darkened shroud
bead curtains hang from high-up clouds.
The clouds weep in pitter-patters,
flooding the other world beneath into shatters.
Rain stomps like a parade in a crescendo,
the city’s heart throbs in a restless tempo.
But hark, the rain does subside,
as abruptly as it did collide.
Behind only signs of rain’s march endure
a flit leaving obscure spoors.
The streets splattered with dull ink,
petrichor toasts with air in the finest clink.
Things come and go as chapters unfold,
was the rain just a past dream as time rolled?
