Summer rain, relentless yet timeless,
breaks away from the perpetual.
like hands on a clock ticking back, quite fast,
I seem stuck in my own past.
pitter patter, faster than you can say,
washes away all that remains.
a wind of cool, diverging the heatwaves;
let the reverb of the static, push you away.
Yet, the sticky air,
befalls me thereafter.
The comfort only bringing exasperation;
the passing rain, never endless.