What Mysterious Event Unfolded on That Rainy Night?
Have you ever noticed how the gentle drumming of raindrops on pavement can turn the simplest act of rising early into an almost laughable high jump challenge? It’s a curious thing—how those little splashes stage an Olympic mockery, making the morning alarm feel like a siren from a distant war. Here I am, caught in my own midnight world at 2 am, while the real world gears up to jolt me awake with its relentless clamor. What if we could just rewind time, let the rain fall unchecked, and watch old relics like wooden chairs and rusted penny farthings magically transform into timeless treasures? This poem beckons us to linger a while in that gentle rebellion against the ticking clock and the harsh pull of dawn. LEARN MORE



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