
Rain taps softly on the pane,
A steady, soothing, gentle rain.
Inside, the world feels warm and still,
With stories waiting on the sill.
Books stacked high in quiet piles,
Whispering dreams across the miles.
Each page a door to somewhere new,
While outside, skies pour silver blue.
Wrapped in blankets, safe and sound,
Lost where words and rain are found.
Home is where the heart can look-
Between the raindrops and the book.