I sit outside, watching the rain pour down,
the roads becoming flooded,
the plants are drenched in,
and the soil has become one huge mud pie.
I'm sitting on the grass in a white shirt, and blue jeans
I'm not caring to move,
even though I'm soaked from head to toe.
I sit there carelessly watching the world go by.
My shirt is becoming visibly clear,
with my colourful bra percing through.
Not even noticing the eyes poking out from the windows
its almost mesmerizing.
Sitting there having the water trickle down my face
causes me to feel secure.
I emerge from my position,
and walk barefoorted on the rocky driveway.
All these thoughts come through my head,
and I feel so refreshed
as though I'm a whole new person,
and return into the house.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well Lulu, this certainly is a different slant to the old wet shirt contest. Very well written.