A poem I found on my hard drive

Rain at Sunset

The air is yellow, perfect.
Rain falls gently,
Silently weeping.
Every drop tells a story;
Rolling together,
Lost forever,
Each and every one reflecting
The dying light.

The light is golden, royal.
The rain is cleaning:
The tears of heaven,
Claiming the dust.
Yet clouds linger,
Never still, never resting;
And the rays are fading fast.

The earth is still, waiting.
Cleaned, it rests,
Yet not unspeaking:
Above my head
The drops are playing
An everlasting rhythm,
Each one uniquely praising
The dying Sun.