Rain.

I love the rain. 

It comes down and parades, 

Then fades for a while. 

And I know how it feels, 

It’s just like your smile. 

Then it hovers in mists. 

Or occasionally spits, 

In a magical way. 

It glimmers, wanders and lifts, 

Encasing us in an all whimsical bliss. 

Or on one of those crying days: 

It hails from above, 

Chucking stones, rag tag ice made of sea. 

And I know you could rage like this, 

But it never meets me. 

When it kidnaps the sun, 

And separates her rays. 

That glisten, this after-shine always stays, 

It shimmers, it moves like your eyes. 

This memory lingers with me, 

Like frost on the grass in the morn. 

I savour each storm. 

I praise the thunder, 

I marvel at the presence, 

At the dark stallion galloping away, 

Leaving footprints on my windows, 

He whispers to me. 

He whispers secrets. 

And he is gone the next day. 

I would stray through the sun for you, 

For rain to shine on my life. 

The thunder’s beauty is a strange 

Phenomenon to behold. 

So I dance through the tears, 

Of joy and of sadness. 

And leap over the puddles, 

Because I crave this: 

I ache for the rain. 

By Greta S, Year 8