Monday, 11 August 2014

A poem came tip-tapping

Tip-tapping on the window 
     the softly falling 
               rain 
running down the glass
     weaving a merry
               dance 
filling up the bucket
     with a resounding
               plop
the tip-tapping starts
     once more
               again

you think you 
              understand her
                   ways
                         but really you do
               not.


©revdjo 11/8/14