Memories of a Raindrop

Last year I rained on Harrison Ford,
and he didn’t even know it.
He shrugged me off as people do.
I felt hurt, but I tried not to show it.

Last month I was drunk by a thirsty rat,
and he happily swished his tail,
but he ended up in a hungry cat
that got squished by the Royal Mail.

I lay in the wet and tried to forget
my ignominious past.
I thought high thoughts of sunny-side clouds
and fresh thoughts of morning-dew grass.

I remember the cycles that I have gone through,
’cos water can do that, you know,
and had I the power at a given hour
to choose where I could go.

I’d drain myself down to the sea again,
and there I would claim my reward,
imbibed by a fish caught and placed in a dish
to be eaten by Harrison Ford.