Drip, Drip, Drip

Written by: Raymond Westley

Drip, drip, drip,

I hear drops on the ceiling,
Now to the shed and another trip
Another chore that’s no too appealing.

The night is young and I am restless.
My mind is planning the next day’s work.

If it rains I will have an excuse,
And, if it stops?
Oh, what’s the use.

So where do I start?