The plink, plink, plink
of raindrops
on a tin roof
is a sound
that echoes
through my
childhood years.

Through my memory’s eye
I see those times.
The sight of dew
on the earth at dawn.

Through my mind’s ear
I hear those sounds.
The sound of Mama yelling
“Wake up for school!”

A lot of sights
and sounds
of youth
are forever gone.

Never to be dredged
from the depths
of my soul.

But with every
summer rain
one memory
echoes loud

The plink, plink, plink
of raindrops
on a tin roof.