Rain pounds loudly against the glass,
Echoing in my small bedroom as I stare at the ceiling.
Pitter-patter-pitter-patter
Goes the rain as it falls upon my ceiling, upon the walls.
I hear the stories the raindrops tell,
I hear their songs and their musical lullabies.
I listen eagerly to the rain,
Wanting to never stop hearing their lovely stories.
I listen until they invade my dreams with their words.
My dreams tell of beautiful dancers
And hidden worlds of the faerie kind.
My dreams tell of dark lies
And cruel mischief ending in death.
Once the storm decides to pass,
I awake and weep quietly.
Knowing that the rain had passed as well
Taking their tales, secrets, and songs with them.
I sigh to myself a lonely sigh
Before smirking slightly.
There's always the next storm.
