Rain On My Window

Rain beat on my window it’s a sound that makes me feel good, it makes me feel safe, Drops racing down the glass changing direction, getting even bigger as they all clash, Reminds me of when I was a kid and guessing which one will get to the bottom first, Staring through dotted glass and waiting for a watery sun to find a break in the clouds. Sitting in my kitchen I remember opening the back door watching the rain fill puddles, Seeing water drip off rich green leaves onto golden russet apples on the old apple tree, My bike up against the brick shed wall, chrome cow horn handles, painted letterbox red, Silly old fool trying to recapture oldest thoughts, my ‘once upon a time’ bygone days. But that doesn’t matter as I enjoy thinking back, I can see it all so vividly, so very near, There’s a wooden trolley with wheels from an old pram, string on the front axle to steer, My trusty blue spud gun sits next a potato with loads of holes in it, so I steal another one, And a brass oil can used on my bike chain and wheels, had a little pump on the top of it. A box in the shed with my precious tools, tools I used to build my bikes and trolleys with, Pen knife in the secret pocket in my denims the bottoms turned up, like a cowboy’s jeans, A spare rusty bike pump that I used to squirt water at my mates or anybody nearby really, Comics piled up under my bed ready to swap with friends for ones I hadn’t read before. Then the rain stops and my kitchen is silent, reality kicks in, I’m back to my own time, The fragile wings of my memories are broken once again, the good days are long gone, Gone are the early recollections of boyhood days when time was made of purest gold, But sometimes these pictures hang before me pure moments carved into hardest stone, Beautiful memories that occasionally shine, this time because of rain on my window.