Raindrops

It was supposed to be different. Today would have been, Sunny, warm, dry. But instead, rain drops. Whooshing windshield wipers. At home, my umbrella closes, and raindrops splatter. Rainwater always seems more slippery- Than even spilled juice on a cold, tile floor. Rainwater is both too cold, and too hot. It is made of raindrops, Which become puddles, Which becomes mud in my house, Which makes me mad. Thunder and lightning taunt me. It laughs against the trees. Flooding the park. That I almost got to enjoy.