Rain drops on my home....

The rain sings,
Mellow brings,
And mud,acrid, cringes,
In shifting footprints.
Little boy impinges,
On his muddy tinges,
Rainy hints,
For fear of home.
Blithe,and wet,he is home.

Candlewind foretells
A storm,to be heard soon.
And in the rain,the silent sane,
Dares to look up to the moon.
Little boy,scared of dark,walking with rain
Streaming down his face,
Alone and challenged by the dark,livid bright,
Hear the music of his pace.
Before the saints had sinned to know Sin,
The rain washed away all their
Muck.Now the rain,deranged,in pain,
Beats down on window panes,in silent prayer.
Evangeline,putrid,shy, pelting down on my home.
Little boy comes back home like it never rained tonight,or before.
My angel,with broken wings,bring me back to earth.My sight
Is wounded,my hands are scorched.
Steal,I beg,away my extinguished torch,
For in it,only memories,burnt smoke remain,
As I wait...
For the next train.
Away from home.
As I wait...
Till it stops to rain...
As I wait...
For....
Rain.