You stick your head out the window,
While it rains,
Even though its the beinging of winter,
You do it all the same.
The cold wet wind hits you,
Like an icy grip,
And all about you, you hear drip, drip.
You look out at the forest,
Right outside your window view,
Then you look at the plastic pond,
With the floating shoe.
The rain falls steadily,
You too, are being soaked,
And you hear the music so lovely,
That gives your heart a poke, poke.
Oh the musical splat, splat, slap!
And the sound of the waters voice ,
When it slides of the roof to the gutter trap,
What an explanable noise.
You shiver slitely,
remembering the cold,
And come back almost frozen,
And on here, the rains poem will be told.