The Wheat Field Tree

I Like To Smoke In The Rain

I like to smoke in the rain,

Outside when the weather turns gray.

Safe beside my umbrella cane,

Sound from the pouring day.

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Cool winds rushing through hushed streets,

Are not there for me, I know.

Nevertheless they meet and greet,

The warmth of my cigar's glow.

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Seldom come more peaceful times,

To let our worries explain,

Sadness in a way sublime.

I like to smoke in the rain.