Drips.

Raindrops patter on the windowpane
Creating rivers down the glass
The gentle tears of the sky
Flowing into a man created stream
Carried away down the twisting path
Running from the world into the endless blue abyss
Merciless heat beats down from above
The shining beacon calling it
Back to its home in the sky
Floating up, drawn by the fire
Soaring, drifting, invisible to the eye
Ready to start its journey again
No troubles and no cares
Oh, how I wish I were the rain.