After the Storm

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“After the Storm”

The rain has folded its wings.
The city exhales, slow, silver, forgiving.
All that thunder wanted to say
has been washed into puddles,
and now, only the lamps remember.

They lean over the street
like old friends who never left,
their light trembling,
not from the wind,
but from tenderness returning.

A tree still holds
a handful of rain in its branches,
and it glows like a quiet soul
that never stopped believing
in the soft resilience of love.

People move again,
shadows carrying warmth,
each reflection a prayer
that the light we lose
will always find its way back.

So breathe, dear heart.
The world is made new again,
not by miracles,
but by the courage
to stand in the wet air and smile.