can hear the pitter-pater
On the ceiling of the rain.
Each drop like tiny dances,
dancing to the sound of thunder.
The bugs go home and rest
While the worms come to soak.
A flash of lightning sreaks across
The sky signaling the dance to begin.
The rain slows into a dream like
Ballet where you barely hear feet
Touch the stage with every step.
Thunder sounds in the north
And the dancing inreases to such a speed.
Hip-hop has boomed across the roof
Into obnoxious slaps that make your skin crawl.
Another flash occurs, bright and yellow,
And a continous distingising beat of pure jazz
Parades along the shingles mimicking a cymbol.
A loud rumble explodes and the dance
Yet again changes to a punk, headbangin' rock,
The worms start to wiggle that looks like a wave.
Then the clouds start to break apart.
Soul takes shape and form. Passionate R&B escalades then fades.
The rain stops and I suit up
In shorts, a tank top, boots, and a hat,
To splash in the puddles to my own
Reckless dance with the pink worms.