As I listen to sounds of rain, gently pouring down,
Memories of home, comes with the pattering sound,
Laughter of children, splashing in mud puddles,
Not caring if they're too messy, for our cuddles.
Sounds of thumping, on the roof steadily,
Like a group of drums, together beating heavily,
Or herds of horses, running wildly to be free,
When sense of danger, they finally begin to see.
Raindrops falling rapidly, on leaves of trees,
Singing like a melody, carried on high seas,
The feisty wind, blowing as a trumpet loud,
Speeding shedding tears, from a stormy cloud.
No matter where we are, when rain does fall,
Our memories, of home life, we do recall,
Whether they are of fun, or damage done,
Sounds of rain, lives forever, where there's no sun.
