Poems about rainy days should be beautiful.

Mei Huang Shi, every family was flooded by rain, and the pond was covered with green grass and frogs. (Zhao Shixiu's The Guest)

The shade of ancient wood is a short awning, and the stick thistle helps me cross the east of the bridge.

The clothes are wet and the apricot blossoms are raining, and the face is not cold. (Monk Zhinan's quatrains)

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This word may be better:

Huanxisha

Qin Guan

The desert is cold in the small building, the hooligans of Silver are like poor autumn, and the light smoke rolls on the screen.

Free flying flowers are as light as a dream, endless silk rain is as thin as sorrow, and the curtain is idle with a small silver hook.