Ukulele Rain Poem by Omiat Kings

As I sit down to a book and look out the window
I view a large portrait with rain falling like long silver needles
and the sky as a giant gray mountain thrusting each needle
down on earth with a pitter-pattery rhythm

I view the tremendous shade of gray outside
and turn my head to the other side of the room
where my vision falls upon the fascinating sight
of my small but thought-worthy ukulele.

In my thoughts I reminisce of the times
when my ukulele gave beautiful sounds that
filled a room with streaks of music
sometimes soft sometimes fierce

Each time my hands crossed the petite fret board
I pondered the history of the instrument
Of the great earth moving melodies
of George Harrison and Ukulele Ike

I catch myself in my reminiscence and turn back
to the portrait of rain in which I discover something familiar
The long silver streaks of rain resembled the long silver streaks
that were my harmonious nylon ukulele strings

I listened to the rhythm that the rain gave
and heard it resemble the patterns in which
I had always strummed my ukulele with soulful emotions
that formed into music

In this incredible gray portrait outside of my window
I gazed upon my small instrument that gave a powerful sound
Of the places I have been and the sounds I have heard
none of them truly compared to the beautiful harmony
of the Ukulele Rain