Rain

As I lay in bed, I could hear the rain pouring down as it was quite loud on the roof, beating down rhythmically as God played drums.

As I sit in my den, I can hear the rain as drops leave the eave to hit the grounds and the cars probably splashing passersby as they slosh instead of whizz by.

I think of the time that I wrote a poem about driving through the blinding rain to see my teenage crush perform. Then I also think about my more recent poem of being drenched at a bus stop by a speeding car. When did the rain lose its romantic appeal and become a nuisance?

written in 1995

written in 2012

written in 2014

Well, I guess my love-hate relationship with rain is nothing new.