Raindrops Never Die Poem by ERNEST CLARY

Hearing the raindrops fall on my roof of tin
brings me to a time way back when
things I once took for granted you see
now seem to be more enchanted to me
I lit my lantern the wet wick of oil
and a beaded blouse
so the aviance I would not spoil
sitting in my dim lit house
listening to the rain
my worries it did douse
as if all was vain
rain falling on the field
powered with rouse
the grain it does build
scurried a mouse
as life existing will not yield
seeing the water flowing down my window in a vertical flow
seemed to flatten and zig zag when the wind would blow
like my thoughts in the dim lit glow
some coming quicker than others would go
I sit there trying to stop my thoughts from fight
listening to the rain in the night
under the dim lit glow of the light
as I heard the raindrops fall some sounded smaller than others
I pictured them children with fathers and mothers
after they fell and made their sound
they rolled down the roof to the gutter
and then back to the ground
soon they will evaporate and return to the sky
like us living beings
they will never die