You compared yourself to a rainstorm
Your favorite kind of weather
Pouring, overflowing on cool Autumn days
Dripping through the trees leaving pearls on the leaves
And lighting up clouds, seeming daytime within the night
In contrast, you called me a song bird
In late Spring or Summer
In clear blue skies I rise gracefully
My voice carrying on the breeze
You were worried your downpour would ruin my wings
But now, in the middle of the rain
I hear the mockingbird chirping away her many songs
Unafraid of the thunder in the distance
In branches, not worried of their sway
But the wind glides through her feathers, the raindrops cleanse her heart
And she sings on
So I will for you