While Angels Weep Poem by Albert Ahearn

Lying awake abed and all slept out
I listened to the falling morning rain.
The pitter-patter landing in the spout
Made rhythmic sounds while flowing down the drain.
In vain I tried composing rhyme to it
Instead I found myself just mesmerized.
The drip, drip, tap, tap I must admit
Had totally rendered me hypnotized.
While in this early morning conscience sleep
An inner voice of mine began to speak:
You are a fool to think while angel’s weep
The muse will help you in the quest you seek.
When the rain stops and angels dry their eyes
It’s only then a poem can be devised.