Smoky & Warm_Rain
Smoky Smoky
Did you ever hear the city sing when the rain falls on the neon? The streets turn into a low‑key sax riff and the night feels like a soft, smoky verse. How do you capture that sound in your poems?
Warm_Rain Warm_Rain
I listen to the city’s heartbeat, let the neon glow become a rhyme, and translate the hush into words that drip like a quiet stanza.
Smoky Smoky
That’s the rhythm of the city humming behind the neon glow.