At night, there are dark clouds that cover the sky. It rains gently and the poet lies on his cosy bed listening to the patter of soft rain on the roof. He enjoys sound, the melody of nature.
Every tinkle on the roof echoes in his heart. He recalls the memories of his childhood. The single memory that comes to him, is that of his mother. He pictures the face of his mother as it used to look at him as she tucked him in bed. He recalls how his mother used to tell him mother used to tell him stories. He continues enjoying the patter of rain on the roof.