Some days are clad in rain like friars
In a robe of gray.
Clouds hang deep, and drops are falling,
Washing time away.
Puddles form and keep on growing,
Mirroring the sky,
And cars, like comets, draw long tails
As they’re rushing by.
The lake, today, wears silver hemming
On its other end –
Snow white ripples mock the sunlight,
Make me thinking:
I shall make amends.
The streets stretch onwards, leaden river
We’re supposed to sail.
But these days, the sails are drenched
And thus to no avail.