Pit-pat, pit-pat
Droplets hitting a metal roof
Through the glass, lines are warped
The outside world seems aloof
Muffled noises amidst the roar
The colors blending to one
A river becomes of the ground below
Above, gray sheets hide the sun
A safe cocoon, warm resting place
To sit and take in the sound
Nature's drumline - her marching band
Accompanies the peace I've found
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem