Rain Pouring
I woke up this morning
with the rain pouring outside my door.
The sky cloudy and dark
like a lonesome day breaking in,
As if it would be slow and melancholic.
The soft wind blew quietly between the senses,
Like soft whispers saying there would be a gloomy day.
The fall of the raindrops on the concrete pavement,
drenched it wet and soaked.
As I stepped on a puddle of water,
a cool splash of it clung to my skin.
The raindrops continued to drip outside my window,
and the tweeting of the birds I could hear;
Like they were singing a song for the rainy day,
Or chatting about the grayness of it all.
A sweet and relaxing rest it would be, perhaps,
If you may, if you would,
Fancy to take one today.
Good day...
with the rain pouring outside my door.
The sky cloudy and dark
like a lonesome day breaking in,
As if it would be slow and melancholic.
The soft wind blew quietly between the senses,
Like soft whispers saying there would be a gloomy day.
The fall of the raindrops on the concrete pavement,
drenched it wet and soaked.
As I stepped on a puddle of water,
a cool splash of it clung to my skin.
The raindrops continued to drip outside my window,
and the tweeting of the birds I could hear;
Like they were singing a song for the rainy day,
Or chatting about the grayness of it all.
A sweet and relaxing rest it would be, perhaps,
If you may, if you would,
Fancy to take one today.
Good day...
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