Hearing the raindrops fall on my roof of tin <br />brings me to a time way back when <br />things I once took for granted you see <br />now seem to be more enchanted to me <br />I lit my lantern the wet wick of oil <br />and a beaded blouse <br />so the aviance I would not spoil <br />sitting in my dim lit house <br />listening to the rain <br />my worries it did douse <br />as if all was vain <br />rain falling on the field <br />powered with rouse <br />the grain it does build <br />scurried a mouse <br />as life existing will not yield <br />seeing the water flowing down my window in a vertical flow <br />seemed to flatten and zig zag when the wind would blow <br />like my thoughts in the dim lit glow <br />some coming quicker than others would go <br />I sit there trying to stop my thoughts from fight <br />listening to the rain in the night <br />under the dim lit glow of the light <br />as I heard the raindrops fall some sounded smaller than others <br />I pictured them children with fathers and mothers <br />after they fell and made their sound <br />they rolled down the roof to the gutter <br />and then back to the ground <br />soon they will evaporate and return to the sky <br />like us living beings <br />they will never die<br /><br />ERNEST CLARY<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/raindrops-never-die/
