To him the rain had a connection,
That drowned him in reprehension.
'Seven years my junior' was his life,
With pride in his bosom, he talked of him.
But now a pain flashed at his plight,
To think the little brother he loved
Dearest, saw him as 'his' no more.
It began when he got a little present,
Beautiful white roses those were.
His nine year old brother held it to him
Sprinkling them with sweet smiles,
Yearning for a bear hug like a child.
It had rained heavily that afternoon,
His little brother had run in it like a fool.
And quickly he managed to push him away
But himself fell down the edge with a sway.
And now without a thought he snapped,
The white roses now bathed in tears,
Down on the floor fell all scattered.
Throwing his thick book aside, after him he ran,
He had not meant to do this, but feared
That their relationship was forever severed!
Years had passed since that eventful day,
And now he stood again under the rain.
His expensive suit was well nigh soaked,
"Oh where's the driver?" he groaned.
