some poems

It's Raining At Courtyard Inn

Plink, plink, plink, the little drops go.
When will they stop? I don't seem to know.
I'm watching the rain through the window pane
And it seems to be getting severe.

Plonk, plonk, plonk, the little drops go.
They race down the glass in a drunken row.
The clouds have come down in a charcoal gown,
An intruder that shouldn't be here.

Plink, plink, plonk, the little drops go.
They fill the bucket in a silvery flow.
Effulgent forks lash with a thunderous smash
As the gutters cascade in a tier.

Plonk, plonk, plink, the little drops go.
When will they stop? It won't be long now.
A tear in the gown cuts a smile in the frown.
Little drops...plink...plonk...then disappear.