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Patter of rain on a tin roof
lured me to sleep as a child
soothing a weary played out kid
into the land of dreams

The room was hot I remember well
tossing in my bed I could not tell
were the stars out tonight

there was not a window in my room
so restlessly I tossed around
when suddenly I heard them patter
on the roof top their little song

first a gentle tap, tap, tap,
a heavy rain the beat increased
to a roaring crescendo
as the smell of hot tar from the near by road
filled my small room

I thought think of all the red newts
walking the gravel side of the road
it's night and I dare not leave my bed
to gather them in my hand for a moment
to feel the softness of their skin
and see their brilliant red/orange color

Lured into a dreamy sleep
counting red newts along the road
and the pitter patter of rain on a tin roof

bentfeather (c) 08.08.06