A poem describing how I feel about the rain. |
Falling softly from the sky The cleansing drops from way up high They've come a long way to get to the ground, you know Most will sit back indoors, and watch the show Coating the world in a fog of gray The earth is quiet, nothing out to play The silently cold drizzle, drenching everything in sight Invisibly slamming into the ground, come the darkest night Rolling fluidly off the leaves, the rooftops and into the brooks Into impossible to reach places, the smallest of nooks Do you know where the rain has been? Lakes, oceans, running off of your skin? Everyone has been caught in a storm, I suppose And soon you're drenched, and so are your clothes But in my opinion, theres nothing better than a summer storm I've taken walks in it barefoot, especially when it's warm I have no complaints when it comes to the rain If I'm in it and turn my face up, I think it'l take away the pain Cleansing, healing, pure and clear And from that, reality gets another smear Do you know what goes on behind that wall of mist? Exactly. You never know what may or may not exist Rain can be mysterious, covering up tracks But if not for it, the ground would be covered in cracks It occasionally reigns the sky, shutting out the sun It absorbs all sound, echoes gone almost as soon as they had begun Though I may not remember the time, date, or place I can never forget the feeling of the raindrops rolling down my face Thunder shakes the ground, lightning flashes before my eyes But I have never feared it, this monster of skies The mountains may tremble, the trees may fall But I will stand in the rain, face up, oblivious to it all Is it ridiculous, something tribal to do? Or is it just instinct, and you've done it too? |