The Rain That Spoke

There was a sweet encounter with the rain. It came, as always, With posters of dark clouds, winds, and a cold breeze. Its firstborns came steadily, Kissing the roofs, unapologetically dousing the earth wet. The rest ran speedily behind as if tied To a longing they dared not hold back. They sang off-note on iron roofs, The breeze testing their firmness, Tapped on windows like angry birds, Till the earth gave way to tears. I stood still as if glued, Not reaching for a blanket— As though the rain, the cold air, Had come with _blankets of peace_ To still the chaos in my world. And for a moment, all was calm. Nothing called for my attention, Nothing demanded to be fixed— Just me, And a sky that chose to feel with me. It did not ask questions, Nor did it wait for answers— It simply stayed, kept falling, Soft yet loud and calm. And when it left, Quiet as it came, It did not take the storm away But it taught me That even storms Can carry a quiet peace within them. ©Ink and Papers ❤️&💡