I start and I stop
And wonder why the clouds never drop
And instead make my clothes flop.
Raindrops prance on my roof; clip clop.
Annoying chore; going mop mop mop.
Chasing mud and water from the top.
Little wonder rainy days are a sour sop.
They leave dead leaves and nasty brown slop.
And smells to make your ears lop.
© Sena Kodjokuma, 2014