Pitter patter pitter patter,
Drip, drop and splatter,
Racing down a window pane,
Falling from fluffy clouds again.
Rolling down hills and glancing of pavements,
The sky it cries its amazement,
Dyeing bright colours in darker spatters,
Perfect spheres before all shatters.
Fragrances once slight but now much more,
The smell of dust after rain - petrichor,
Feeding the earth with life and cleansing its soul,
And fusing halves to one whole.
Sounds that drift and echo in empty rooms,
Or creates music like lullabies where sleep looms,
Dusting the streets and the treetops,
The beauty of nature in tiny raindrops.
