The Pitter Patter
The Pitter Patter Pitter, patter, falls as rain, A nursery rhyme of steel and flame. In heaven’s vault the warheads sing, Their lullaby a falling sting. The sky is stitched with silver trails, Each arc a promise, cold and frail. Not drops but daggers pierce the air, A clockwork chorus of despair. Pitter, patter, listen close, The sound of endings, now overdose. Cities cradle as women weep, The Earth itself prepares to sleep. Where once was thunder, now is birth Of fire-seeds that salt the earth. The pitter patter, light and loud, Funeral march wrapped in shroud. And when the silence grips the land, Ash will sift through shattered hands. For pitter, patter, once so small, Was hell itself, disguised as fall.