The rain came down
after days of
drought. W ho knew the
roof would not stop
the rain. It fell
on books in the
bookshelf, ruining
some of the best
books I owned. I
read most of the
books all the way
through. Some I did
not get a chance
to read. The rain
went through all the
pages. If the
rain could read, I
would like to ask
it what it thought
of each author.
Which one was its
favorite, which
it did not like.
I curse the rain
for doing this,
but do not blame
it for what it
did. We needed
the rain more than
I needed most
of those wet books.