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The sky exhales a silver sigh,
A hush falls low as clouds drift by.
On rooftops, leaves, and quiet streets,
The rain begins its soft repeats.
It taps in rhythm, slow and kind,
A lullaby for restless mind.
Each drop a thought, each splash a line,
A poem whispered by design.
The world recedes, the noise grows thin,
And all that’s loud stays locked within.
Outside, the rain keeps steady time—
A metronome for dreaming rhyme. 3 replies
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