Sat in the sanctuary of prickly peace.
Pit of sweet slumber.
Scrutinising the rain as it paints ornate pictures on my window.
It's calling out.
Glass glimmering.
Pane quivering to the beat of the raindrops that pound.
Beating the window, before greeting the ground.
Bouncing and dancing as whirling ballerinas.
Facetted diamonds.
They're dripping from fronds.
Hanging from ferns.
The rain's falling fast in sparkling wet gemstones.
Having a blast.
Twisted on wind.
Winding and crashing.
Hear them calling clamorously,
Hail us all warm dry cab.
For soon they shall be melting.
(C) LIVVI