All is dark except the screen that sits before me,
I sit and listen to the rhythm of the rain,
making melodic symphonies outside my window.
The wind blows and the rhythm changes,
and then it sings so tenderly,
a peaceful, soothing, comforting song,
and then the flood gates open,
The music becomes a loud drum beating faster and faster,
the wind howling in accompaniment,
almost anger, it soon subsides,
and naught there is but a soft dripping,
singing ever so softly,
wrapping its water droplets.
almost touching my face from outside the window..
sleep, in a language I am sure
that only I can understand.
My eyelids have become heavy,
and my fingers slip