Thursday, October 27, 2011

A Poem Draft

Raindrops

Little children, tips of leaves
are dripping with the raindrops sweet
that drop yet from eternity
with sounds like little marching feet
that tap a patter, pat a beat;
so always when the gray sky grieves
percussive patterns interweave
its weeping teardrops falling free,
a rhythmic water-tapestry,
threaded, loomed, and tied up neat.