Rain it pours, and its dancing in my soul now;
Rain it pours, and it drowns away my thoughts;
Rain it pours, and everything goes silent;
Rain it pours, and its dancing in my soul.
There is not always a romance associated with rain.There is not always a pleasure of getting wet under it.There is not always the pleasent smell of earth that fascinates one to rains.Sometimes its just the pleasure of watching it sitting by the window.Sometimes its just that continuous sound of drizzle that makes you silent ,lost in your thoughts.
Sitting by a window, a child has wasted many of his exam prepatory leave, with a book in his hand and the rain dripping down to fill the pond across the window.He had that desprate wish for the exams to end so that he can float his paper boats made of tore of pages from lessons that were meant to be learnt.He had that strange desire to talk to the frogs who came once a year.But the exams are too long to end.The frogs are gone,the pond is mud,the boats can't float.
Rain it pours, and it drowns away my thoughts;
Rain it pours, and everything goes silent;
Rain it pours, and its dancing in my soul.
There is not always a romance associated with rain.There is not always a pleasure of getting wet under it.There is not always the pleasent smell of earth that fascinates one to rains.Sometimes its just the pleasure of watching it sitting by the window.Sometimes its just that continuous sound of drizzle that makes you silent ,lost in your thoughts.
Sitting by a window, a child has wasted many of his exam prepatory leave, with a book in his hand and the rain dripping down to fill the pond across the window.He had that desprate wish for the exams to end so that he can float his paper boats made of tore of pages from lessons that were meant to be learnt.He had that strange desire to talk to the frogs who came once a year.But the exams are too long to end.The frogs are gone,the pond is mud,the boats can't float.