Rain upon my Glass

Rain, pelting gently

upon the pane’s glass.

Ah! Alas!

Where hast thy travels brought you?

Why does thou come hither?

Run thyself upon my window?

Gentle rain, you speak kindly so.

The stories you tell,

in rhythmic tap.

Gentle you fall

to paint the flower beds.

Rain drops falling.

Scattering so.

And soon the children shall be splashing,

carrying on so.

All the while, I’ll be sloshing,

and plodding through the mud.

Rain, Alas! Must thy make thee way?

Haven’t thy come to stay?

Little child whom come to play,

must make leave and say “good-day.”

Once you come again.

Tell once again where you’ve been.

I might be busy,

but assuredly I’ll listen.

Rain hush now!

Cease your crying, do!

How you make me laugh,

midst all this grievous sadness.

Drops upon my pane,

young spring rain.

Come hither, come again.

Alas! This widow to weep.

Lonesome, and forsake.

Without your company to keep.

Gentle rain, farewell!

Goodbye!

Until, Mother nature’s children, run quite dry.

I will see you again.

And, oh! Tell me so

of where you’ve been.

Your travels, so!

Reviews

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

Beautiful Poem, the imagery took me on a rainy spring day, I could almost hear the children playing! Great write