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Rain

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Rain patters on my roof,
it is telling me a story,
of long ago,
when the world was young.

Patter, patter it says.
Lightning strikes,
and thunder roars,
but rain patters.

It whispers to me,
telling of the days,
when there were no factories,
no polluted streets,
and no hatred.

Patter, patter it says.
Lightning strikes,
and thunder roars,
but rain patters.

Rain.
It is speaking of long ago,
when people, animals, and nature were united,
and the world was good.

Patter, patter it says.
Lightning strikes,
and thunder roars,
but rain patters.





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