Beneath the canopy of stars, quiet and profound,
The midnight rain begins to fall, a gentle sound.
It whispers secrets to the leaves, a soft refrain,
A lullaby that soothes the earth, a sweet, serene domain.

Each droplet tells a story, ancient and untold,
Of mountains high, and valleys deep, of tales both new and old.
It dances on the rooftops, a rhythmic, timeless beat,
A symphony of nature’s grace, in every drop, complete.

The world in slumber listens, to this nocturnal song,
The rain, a poet in disguise, has sung to us so long.
In every pitter-patter, lies a verse of pure delight,
A melody that paints the night, in hues of silver light.

And when the dawn awakens, with the first light of day,
The rain bids a soft farewell, and gently fades away.
But in our hearts, its whispers stay, a cherished, sweet embrace,
A memory of the midnight rain, its delicate, soothing grace.