Between Drops

Three nights stitched in sleepless thread,

feet wandering beneath a swollen sky.

Rain taps a broken rhythm on my jacket,

starting and stopping like a hesitant breath,

catching in the hollow between streetlamp and shadow.

Puddles flicker with yellow light,

a pulse that won’t stay steady,

mirroring the rhythm of thoughts

I can’t pin down.

The highway hums above,

a constant that doesn’t ask for rest,

and I keep walking,

hoping the rain will finish its story.