Saturday, January 03, 2009

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring...

As the raindrops plink, plink, plink against my window panes

And the rumble of thunder and lightning waxes and wanes

I perch on the sofa with glasses on my face and a book in hand

Reading, absorbing time like the sifting of hourglass sand

While I drift afloat on another's words, the rain is pouring

And my sweet dear hubby has fallen asleep in his chair snoring

A peaceful feeling overwhelms me as I delve deeper in the prose

I snuggle back in the cushions reading and find myself taking a doze.

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