a poem for the rain

This is my poem for the rain.

This is my poem and it will never be yours.

A hundred and one earthquakes and storms,

'Tis with great sadness that this, I can't sustain.


Cause all my labour, if in vain

Lies within people unborn,

Places that only just in thought

are ever to embrace my trace.


Yet when my paper thoughts unfold

in this rain I will be thrown

flowing, ebbing back and forth

in the eulogy you spoke.