rainfall paints the car park with a darker hue, giving
depth to its once flat surface, so that headlights
drill down and refract, in its now mirrored facade.

the world slowly melts, as a thousand drummers beat
against my window, falling as a single sheet towards
the sill.

dark shapes, people, walk swiftly by: faceless,
beheaded by their own umbrellas, but, it is no different
from a sunny day, when stern faces, and frosty
indisposition, takes the place of covered face.