|Piglet sleeping in the warm and dry tiny house.|
I was about to put the laptop away because I am done with my work for the day when I thought of this poem by Shel Silverstein. Enjoy.
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.
I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can't do a handstand--
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said--
I'm just not the same since there's rain in my head.