When it rains, it pours
When it pours, close the doors
For it does not feel nice
To walk on soaking floors

Instead, look out the window
With your head upon a pillow
Oh look, swaying in the storm
is a lovely weeping willow

After the storm has passed
Raindrops cling upon the glass
And to hold this memory in time
You stop and take a photo.

I know, that you know, that the last line did not rhyme, but sometimes my dear it’s fine. 🙂