by Bridget Webber

Created on: January 22, 2010

When it rains the old man thinks

He see's slithers of silver,

Littering his garden path.

His elderly brain turns lightening into

God having flashes of inspiration.

Thunder becomes great crackers,

Being pulled in the sky,

But the doctor says that

Protection is needed to

Shield the aged man from

Stormy dementia,

So pills are popped,

The weather is boring again,

And he sits in his chair,

Wishing that he could

Throw off his wellington boots,

His raincoat and hat and,

Dance in the magic

He is no-long allowed.

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