I’m listening to the sound of rain
caressing each blade of grass,
lingering on the window pane.

It lays low the sugar cane –
that tumble down with a crash.
I’m listening to the sound of rain.

I lift high my head and crane
towards the recent lightning’s flash
lingering on the window pane.

The whistling of the raindrop train
and booming splendor of each splash.
I’m listening to the sound of rain.

How many days have I lain
watching it, in my blanket sash,
lingering on the window pane?

Though it’s so simple and so plain,
I love each and every moistened lash.
I’m listening to the sound of rain
lingering on the window pane.

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