The cold wind blows through The windows As she stares off into the distance, Wandering what tomorrow might bring She watches the rain falling softly down Gathering into puddles Small, at first, but growing Bigger, bigger, until at last her Whole front yard is a lake Who knows what makes the rain fall? Who knows what makes the seasons change? God? How could a God even exist? Knowing that an answer will Never come to her, she gives up And goes back to watching the rain fall And seasons change, Wandering what tomorrow might bring.