The Rain

the rain, like melted grain of ice to be, that, maybe, loving will be we, or, maybe, not, but it just falls in the gray day of the wet fall. the rain, that we all must obey, be it the morning or the day, hoping, it will, will go away some time, some evening or some day. the rain, a paint of many hues, the chance to win or just to lose, and to forget with some regret. but... let it rain, please, let, please, let. Ivan Petryshyn