What are you doing, my son?
Crowns? What crowns?
Where are the crowns?
Can’t you see? The rain is making them.
She looked where he pointed
At the water rising where each drop fell
And saw the crowns
Thousands of them
I wrote this piece to be published anonymously in the college magazine, in a page dedicated to versification on rain. Most of my students guessed it was my piece ‘cos I used to relate this little episode where my 4 year old son opened my eyes to the crowns that rain drops made - to prove the point that all of us are born poets but our creativity falls by the way side in our struggle with this business called life.