The rain isn’t red
They tell me it’s all in my head
And the sky isn’t azure blue
The sun doesn’t shine for most of the time
And the weatherman doesn’t have a clue
Rain on the window
Brings the black and green scarecrow
With a word from the other side
To play hide and seek
Sneak a peak passed the hedgerow
For the ultimate place to hide.
As for me, I draw turkeys by tracing my hands
Shoot rubber bands at the moon
Play among the pyramids
In the City Park sandbox
Catch falling stars with a spoon
Captain my newspaper ship
On a rain gutter ocean
To places like Katmandu.
The rain isn’t red
In the view from my hospital bed
Medicated, shrinking violet head
Scribble, scrabble, psychobabble
Maybe I am a wee bit confused
But I remain sane
When true to my claim regarding the rain
Because nothing they tell me is true
And with toadstool umbrella
Duck into the cellar
To shake the sand out of my shoes.
