A Poet Drenched in Rain

Under the cloud's tender blush, there stood a bard,

His heart a wellspring of emotions, deeply scarred,

A poet drenched in rain as his soul laid bare,

In the storm's tumultuous embrace as he dared to share.

 

With quill in hand, and parchment white as snow,

He wandered through the meadows where wildflowers grow,

The heavens wept and their tears felt like a gentle refrain,

As he wove verses of love filled with both joy and pain.

 

His inked thoughts like droplets, pure and free,

Danced upon the page with graceful poetry,

Each word a serenade, each line a sweet caress,

As his heart's secrets, he began to confess.

 

The raindrops kissed his forehead, his cheeks aglow,

Their liquid touch a muse that made his verses flow,

He conjured sonnets, as tempests raged and roared,

An ode to nature's fury, a love song adored.

 

The lightning's jagged fingers, a celestial quill,

Illuminated his words, with a fiery thrill,

And thunder's rolling cadence, deep and wide,

Provided the rhythm for his verses to ride.

 

Amidst the downpour, his verses soared on high,

A symphony of feelings, beneath the weeping sky,

He spoke of love's ardor, and love's bittersweet sting,

In every stanza, the essence of everything.

 

The raindrops formed a mosaic of a watery design,

In which his dreams and fantasies intertwined,

He painted with words on the canvas of the heart,

A masterpiece of passion, a work of poetic art.

 

As the storm began to wane, his verses drew to a close,

The poet drenched in rain, in the afterglow's repose,

He gazed upon his creation lying soaked to the core,

A testament to love, forever to endure.

 

In nature's embrace, he found his inspiration,

A poet drenched in rain, a soul's jubilation,

His words, a testament to the depths of human feeling,

In this tempestuous world, love's healing.

 

And as the rain ceased, the skies turned serene,

The poet, still soaked, saw a sight unforeseen,

A rainbow arched above, a promise in the skies,

That love's enduring beauty would never truly die.

 

With quill and parchment, he braved the storm's might,

For in his verses, he discovered the truest light,

A love that endures, come sunshine or rain,

In the tender heart of the poet, a forever-lasting refrain.