STEPHEN FRY

There's nothing quite like the touch of rain

to mask my sorrow and wash away some of the pain;

It does play havoc with my hair

but these days I really don't seem to care;

Rain, you fall steadily and heavily with a splish splashing sound

as you surely hit the ground;

you force umbrellas to come out whether they like it or not;

bright colours all around;

people walking a little bit faster;

but still not many a friend to be found;

windscreen wipers are working tirelessly on buses and cars;

I long for evening so I can stare out into the sky and maybe gaze at some stars?

Everything looks a little dark and grey, dull and mundane;

I find myself thinking back to my pain;

yet there's nothing quite like the touch of rain.
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THERE IS AN ELEMENT OF ROMANTICISM ASSOCIATED WITH RAINDROPS TOO THOUGH
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