After months of copious rains
I wanted to see the sun,
its yellow rays as sugary veins.
Dripping on my happy face,
but the rain is still here,
I want it gone, gone from this place.
Slowly clouds move above the sky
lingering like a dark memory,
uglier the rain that in it fly.
It’s said they represent our dreams
a sign of mortality and strife,
that shape the lives-varying themes.
At the edge of the horizon
the sun waves hello, flaming bright,
far, far it seemed to be risin’.
Soggy, slippery, slimy ground
beaten by the relentless rain,
that strikes a rhythmic eerie sound.
The birds fly squawking in pain,
they\'re doubtless tired of the rain,
droplets falling without refrain.