In the quiet night, the rains descend, A soft serenade that knows no end. Each drop a whisper, a tender sigh, Beneath a shroud of ink-stained sky. The moon and stars are lost from sight, Swallowed by the clouds' embrace tight. Their absence casts a deeper shade, Where shadows dance and dreams cascade. Yet in this dark, a beauty blooms, The gentle rhythm, the night’s perfumes. A lullaby in droplets’ flight, A soothing balm to hearts at night. For though the heavens seem bereft, The rain’s own stars in night are left. And in their fall, a silent tune, A promise of the dawn to come soon. ©twisha ray

twisha ray

In the quiet night, the rains descend, A soft serenade that knows no end. Each drop a whisper, a tender sigh, Beneath a shroud of ink-stained sky. The moon and stars are lost from sight, Swallowed by the clouds' embrace tight. Their absence casts a deeper shade, Where shadows dance and dreams cascade. Yet in this dark, a beauty blooms, The gentle rhythm, the night’s perfumes. A lullaby in droplets’ flight, A soothing balm to hearts at night. For though the heavens seem bereft, The rain’s own stars in night are left. And in their fall, a silent tune, A promise of the dawn to come soon. ©twisha ray

twisha ray