I lay curled in a sleepy pile,
sheltered from the world outside, from the rain beating the
earth like a worn out drum.
It thrums in a sorrowful manner,
Wanting people to listen, hear it's muffled cries.
But everyone's too busy and rushes on with their lives.
Although I am inside, I can gaze through the window panes,
the drizzle of drops spelling out my name.
The song of the gray sky and the water pouring from it mix into a symphony and I stay tuned.
Even though inside my tangled veins a rush of industrious activity hammers through my being,
I drown it all out.
Just to sit.
In peace.
With the ballad of the world playing out before me.