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Over the hills and a long way away
     Is the land of eternal rain.
The sun, out of spite, has vacated this place
     As it left on the plane to Spain.

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Both sodden and soggy the wetlands thrive
      For it's raining both night and day,
And sadly for children who live in this place,
      There's nowhere outside they can play.

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Rain pitters and patters on window and roof
     And the birds never sing any more.
It splishes and splashes and sploshes again
     On the roads outside everyone's door.

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The rivers run fast and the waterfalls sing
     To the tune of the endless stream.
The warmth of the sun on a soft golden beach
      Must surely be part of a dream.

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Copyright on all my poems 

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