The Song Of The Rain.
The rain is clapping on my roof
The wind and rain sing in treble
The sick roses sprung as a spoof
as white wings fly in artful b'ffle
to the waves of the gentle wind.
Thunder grips the earth as tree waves,
The blind rain wept and the earth drank_
The sick leaves nurtures their greed sways
and tons of drop on the Brooks sank_
The rumbling wind aid crystal drops.
The silver drops makes the Brooks chirp,
The rain whistle in rhyt'mic whims.
Brown hands grip white snows like li'tle twerp;
The song of the rain is like hymns
of twisted knott'ng rhythmic flow.
"words from the innocent mind"