Raindrops soak me through my shoes, socks, and soul...
Umbrella raised in hopeful surrender -
Though my scalp stasy dry, walking soaks my soles.
Was it an army of drops, or just one,
Through which my childhood rain play was hindered,
And joy was sucked from my innocent soul?
While walking wet, it seems despair has won;
Yet, as the water cleans, hope is rendered.
The cold, dark, and wet storm leaves a world wan.
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