Tin Roof

I still remember the sound  
Of rain on the tin roof
That soft pitter patter
Under the melancholy sky
When the clouds first cry
Weeping gently
My head deep
Within my feather pillow
Drifting off to sleep
Every tip and tap on the tin
Echoes in my head
Every drip and drop
Of a thousand rains
Fill my soul with recollections
Of childhood under a tin roof
Falling asleep
Each murmur
Each whisper
From the patter of the rain