Overcast,
crowds of people,
walking in the rain,
with their umbrellas in the park,
crowds of people walking past the pond and the ducks,
crowds of people,
some in silence, some in conversation,
as the rain it sweeps the nation,
and the crowds of people hope for better luck,
and better weather, and hope to be somewhere else far away,
far away from the grey, somewhere on a sunny day,
and for the birds to sing,
and in the Church nearby the people prey,
and ask God to heal the sick, and fulfil their dreams,
and for the Church roof to be fixed,
and the vicar, he leads the sermon with a smile on his face,
and he and the mourner’s prey,
for the end of wars far far away,
and the rain it continues to pour,
and God, well he must be upset,
because the rain won't stop,
and I wonder, does anyone prey,
does any prey for God?
And for his good health?
I wonder this as the choir it sings as if angels from heaven,
and a homeless man nearby curses God and the weather,
and tells the rain to go to hell, and then the lightning begins,
and for the rest of the day, it does not bode well.