The rain falls heavily on my doorway

The sounds reverberate the frame

It pricks countlessly against the cold roof

And refuses to stop until it finds a way in.

My house, a quiet shelter,

Has walls not made of wood

It proves to be impenetrable

Against storms and rains that brew.

But sometimes when it rains too hard

It floods and it becomes too cold,

And when the water lets itself in--

I stammer but refuse to go.