The rain against my window whispers wistfully in my ear
Telling me the sweet, simple story of a river yet unborn
A cool breeze in the misty morn
I hear the grass growing to the pitter patter beat
As the drops drum on the pane
And in that ringing melody
I hear the rainstorm sing to me
Of a rainbow soon to be,

soaked in rainsong I,
feel it’s my mom’s cradle song;
I feel secure and  warm