Time to Be Gone

The rain falls on rooftops,

it patters their tin,

it pools in their drainpipes,

and rushes within,

it cleans out the air,

takes away all its grit,

and washes the world,

for the sunrise to fit.

A new day is dawning,

it’s gilded with hope,

with promises spoken,

for nature to cope,

to fill up her lungs,

with the freshness of dew,

allow for the morning,

to brighten her hue.

The rain falls in droplets,

it patterns the earth,

it fastens in cobwebs,

and shimmers its mirth,

it wishes to wake,

with the rays of the sun,

though every last kiss,

whispers Time to be gone.


~ by mescribe on July 21, 2010.

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