By Marianne Lincoln

It rains.
It pours.
You get all soaked going out the door.
It’s in the air.
It’s on the ground.
It’s everywhere you look around.
You dig a hole.
It fills right up.
There’s more than enough to fill your cup.
Build a road,
It pulls it down.
The potholes spread all over town.
Build a house,
With a gorgeous view,
It slides right down the hill,
Oh pooh!
Beside a river,
Quaint and warm,
Is quite the opposite in a storm.
Wash out the house,
Wash out the banks,
The river takes it without thanks.
Scrape it off,
Fill the hole,
It comes right back from down below.
In oceans deep,
Or lakes serene,
It drowns and sinks leaving broken dreams.
Its power unmatched,
No matter what you do,
Water will have its way with you.


One Comment Add yours

  1. alyce warren says:

    Great poem

    Alyce Warren
    Sent from my iPhone

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