A rainy day; but it’s not the rain that bother me, it’s the wet drip…

rain on windowIt’s not the rain I dislike as it pitter-patters down

Spraying the windows in its peppering sound;

Dispersing its droplets one after the other,

Dispersing the people now running for cover.

And for every one drop there’s a million more

Cascading and tumbling to make sodden the floor

Where it forms little puddles that soon become lakes,

Ideal for splashing passers-by in its wake.rain on road

Then the wind blows it this way then over to there

Directing the stair rods with never a care;

’til wet is above you, below, all about,

Your umbrella now pointless as it turns inside out.

No, it’s not the rain I dislike, no, not a bit

It’s the wet that I hate as I drip…drip…drip

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About Sophia Moseley

Freelance Copywriter, Feature Writer and Author. Looking for that illusive job that every working mother craves but surviving, just, on what I can find. My writing and poetry keeps my sane. Watch this space.
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