Raindrops like music on the rooftops

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Passing the National Park this morning…

Raindrops like music on the rooftops, soothing me, lulling me into a cozy sleep – but wait, it’s not nice and cool, it’s humid! And my fan? It’s useless because I have blackout. Oh wait, it’s back on – yet another on/off routine that I’m certain doesn’t jump the meter. But I love the rain! Especially at nights when it can be my lullaby. But then I’ll wake up in the morning and find my kitchen a pool, water seeping in at every crack and crevice onto my floor; and even as I brave it all, I know when I go outside, I will find my bridge submerged and I will start the day off with wet shoes, wet clothes and a mood as predictable as the weather. And what of the 44 Bus Park at Stabroek; what of my office compound? Woe is me! Alas! I have no boat! Must I be forced to hate the rain – the rain I love in all its glorious beauty – for the pains of surviving my urban jungle?

– poetry on Facebook inspired by the flooding of the author’s apartment…


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