Why is the rain cold,
What does the sky contain
For us, is it the future foretold.
Is the sun up there
Swaddled in blankets of cloud.
Does the sun care, has it departed.
Is it a stone-hearted deserter
Run away from our worries,
Our directionless scurry. Back and forth,
Avoiding individual raindrops
But drenched by the downpour.
© 2020 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally Published 16 October 2016
Made of sticks and stones 
Reblogged this on Made of sticks and stones and commented:
A poem of the raindrops
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