She was terribly sick,
All she did was turning her ears to the soothing lyric,
In a charmingly-calming poetic song,
Which she repeated all day long,
And she forgot to write her own limerick!
“Listen to me,”
Said the little girl, in confidence.
“I have a voice;
It might be tiny, but never insignificant.
It’s the voice of hope, wrapped in faith,
Believing it shall make a difference,
For the sake of my fellow beings,
Now and in the years to come.”
She lifted her hand,
And raised her voice again,
“Listen to my voice!”
Five cars in a row and an umbrella
Parked under the bombarding rain.
And I’m still waiting up here, selah.
Everything gives way for the thunder and the rain,
To scream and shout like an emotional fella,
Spluttering his heart out in vain,
As none of us understand but thinking he needs a selah.
To calm himself down like a peaceful terrain.
O rain, when are you going to selah?
Five cars, an umbrella, and me still listen to you in uncertain.
Walk the night away,
After the rain has stopped dancing,
Along the watery pathway.
Tell me the story worth revealing,
The truth about the passing day.
About what love has been growing,
In your brightly blue sky.
Has it grown teardrop out of striving?
Or sweat for the lack of supply?
Tell me about what the sun has been hearing,
From the chatterbox birds that fly,
Over the land that has been dreaming,
Of the warmth of May.
Tell me more as I am listening,
Tell me more, you shan’t be shy.
We always have stories to tell,
And dreams to share.
Imagination runs well,
When we just care
To let its magic spell
Whirl and swirl in pair
And pull it out of its shell.