I try to sleep; but still wonder, where this hole is,
The roof seems okay; the moon rays can’t penetrate,
Nevertheless, every dawn; my bed is wet, the floor dry,
Have consulted the carpenter,
Inquired from the engineer on any left open part,
Moved my bed to another position,
But No! The rain rains only on my bed,
Not on mom’s bed or my sister’s bed,
Where does it come from?
Mom says I’m the rain, but how do I tell her,
I can’t rain; I’m not the black heavy clouds on the sky,
If I were, I wouldn’t rain on myself,
I would rain in Dubai and lower the high temperatures,
I would rain in dams & ensure they never dry,
But why would I rain in my bed?
It’s supposed to be warm, to take me to dreamland,
If wet, then how can I sleep so comfortably?
Yesterday I put an umbrella on top of my bed,
Sure no rain can pass, tucked myself to dreamland,
Then I felt pressed, lazy to wake, but still went out,
Felt good to be relieved, didn’t see myself go back to bed,
So I woke up fast, surprisingly!
Still the rain poured on my bed and me again!
The umbrella leaked too, but has no holes,
What’s happening to me in the night?
Should I see another house builder?
Or should I go repair the roof myself,
But No! The roof seems to have holes everywhere,
What will I do now?
But why did mom say I’m the rain,
Can I really Rain?
Mom better have the answer…………..