The clouds are so close by,
I can hear them whisper;
Squirm before the thunder,
Raindrops huddle together, like me- shy,
They’d wonder all the time, yet not question the sky-
Why on a whim, they rain?
Just lash out on the glass ceiling!
Pour unyielding,
And not plead in vain,
Tattered, not torn,
Oh, but this is something-
Driving on a bridge on a rainy morn.
Evenings, I adore,
Streetlights teasing the stars,
Sleepy, they count the cars,
The glass ceilings can fetter me no more;
I always keep a few silver linings in store.
My tears for freewill yearn,
Like the bridge, o’er hurdles leaping,
Raindrops dripping
To never return,
Tattered, not torn,
Oh, but this is something-
Better than driving on a rainy morn.
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