THE PERFECT MELODY
The air is heavy.
Clouds roll in.
The sky grows dark.
You hear the first drops.
The water pounds on the roof
in a staccato melody of its own.
Pound, pound, pound.
Tap, tap, tap.
Rain washes our streets.
Clears our minds.
A new day arrives.
Clouds roll in.
The sky grows dark.
You hear the first drops.
The water pounds on the roof
in a staccato melody of its own.
Pound, pound, pound.
Tap, tap, tap.
Rain washes our streets.
Clears our minds.
A new day arrives.
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