Pitter-patter; tears on the roof,
The world sleeps knowing not the grief,
And in dawning hours the gage is proof
Of a tear shed for life… oh so brief!

The face of the sky is darkly troubled,
Unnoticed by the sleeping world below
Unconcerned nor woken by the tear drops doubled
Weeping o’er what they all ought to know.

The gushing sounds of torrents, of sorrow
For a world who really ought to care,
The rising waters of destruction for the morrow
Only stirs one here and there.

The gurgling sounds of a drowning people
Wake a dying world with a start,
Too late they’ve learnt that Life’s not below a steeple,
But within a sincere and humble heart!