Pitter Patter

Pitter patter, drip, drop, it’s not an April shower Drip, drop, drip, drop raining hour after long hour Suddenly the sun streaks through, javelins of sunlight Then back to pitter, patter, and rain throughout the night. In and out of doorways, trying to stay dry Thunder crashing the Queens dead, the country seems to sigh Edward the happy monarch will rule with fun from now on Rain, rain, it never stops crying for the Old Queen is gone. The sun breaks through the London grey, it sparkles on a tree leaf Drops still dripping slowly, displaying all their grief. Happy times are coming, skipping down the London streets Children playing hopscotch, while the bobbies are on the beat. A blossom opens a leaf unfurls, breathes the rain drops in The first sup of clean water in these london streets so grim. Pitter, patter, feel the rain - dodging in and out of doorways Trying to keep dry in the summer rain as one does always. The ringing of the bells, Big Ben strikes the hour A begging hand from a pile of rags huddled in the shower. The old queen is dead and gone, but wanders through her city Looking left and right, she shakes her head in certain pity Through London town she wanders where dirt and grime abound She’s searching for she does not know - until it she has found The thunder crashes the rain pours then drips slowly to an end The queen is dead long live the King she prays his ways he’ll mend. ©~GG~ 2012 Entry for Tracie's Anything goes competition This is a Poem I have just done for a Magazine about when Queen Victoria died.