The rain is falling

A squall of an infant.
That is when the first rain falls.

when a child is sick.
the second rain falls.

when he is hungry,
another rain falls.

when he gets taller,
ready to walk,
ready to explore the world,
one by one started to be left behind,
no more parents to hold his hand,
he thought the rain would never come again.

he was young,

he was wrong,

of course the rain will come again

no way would the rain be left behind,
no way would it let the sun shine.


As he crawl past the dewy grass,
As he walk past the gloomy day,
As he skip along the dark alley,
As he run past the sleeping meadows,
He will finally stop upon the gleaming shadows,
He will finally smile at the river so shallow,
bearing the reflection of his eyes, his lips, his face,
ever so happy.

Realising the rainbow is coming near,
knowing the rain will end,
even for a a frame of time,
even when its not that fine,
yet embrace the chances as they come,
and turn it into a treasure hunt,
that excites him as his story entails,
a story of a common day and rain,
a story of many other things,
when other rain falls again.