In the Rain

The grey shapes loom stealthily across the azure,
they crackle, growl and whimper over every house and moor.

The sudden downpour, the wet streets and its rythmic beats, it plays nature's music.

All get wet, rags or riches.
All get wet, in the rain.

Huddled into the warmth of a trash bin, sits a small soul, neither cover nor any kin.
All she yearns for is, not a cozy room with a foamy bed but, a tattered brolly to cover her head,
to exist and live it out, in the rain.

Bright their features, warm their moods, a twinkle in their eyes and noses flat against the panes.
All they yearn for is, not warmth, nor a foamy bed
but, to kick at the puddles
to get wet and play it out, in the rain.

All get wet, rags or riches.
All get wet, in the rain.