Here’s a little picture
I’m painting in your head.
A pretty little peach tree
and a book beside a bed.
A candle on the table,
and little flickering flames,
lighting up the window,
showing tiny drops of rain.
When suddenly, from up above,
lightening strikes and thunder thuds!
And crashing goes the little tree,
to slip and slide in puddled mud.
You watch closely through the door,
as rain pounds harder, harder still;
and then you huddle up in bed,
to watch it on the window sill.
Was the rain as nice to you?
Did it wash away the pain?
Did it burn away the hurt,
and leave only what you have to gain?
Did you scream and then give up?
Cause suddenly it’s not so bad…
No burning from a loud, loud sun,
just a tan and no more sad?
Calming, is the rain for me,
even when the thunder thumps.
Even when the lightning strikes,
it only smooths the little bumps.