Rain Poem by Ander Greigon

So the rain starts to fall down further...
But the crowd last call on the door;
With a strong wind that blows sweep render,
Since a long hope aloof my vigor;
Reach a pause to much blot safer,
Fine a lost beat sooner: prettier;
Might belong to a cussner, thunder:
Right and flight pick a faster rather:
Such a plight of a rougher winter,
Ate the wrong intended humper;
Get a clot on fonder reaper;
Pile of shoes on what tiingling proper
High as vast on chains and hacker
Light as what a most would clamp on trimmer
Fame was not the glory facer:
But adorn choose duly ficker,
Came a but and fancy hire
Leak a sap and made a surrender.