On the glass of the foggy window pane.
It clatters and it whispers; it pauses and it sighs,
And I sigh, "How I love to hear the rain."
The rain touches the daisies, bending their leaves,
Bending the leaves of the weeping willow tree.
I have to smile; how I love the gently falling rain.
The gently falling rain is soft and sweet.
The rain knocks against my ceiling, quiet and soft.
Quiet, soft against the shingles of the rooftop.
'Til the thunder starts to growl in a gentle harmony,
In harmony until the rain finally stops.
January 18, 2011