Intercity Synchronicity

I’m riding on a train;
on a train through the rain;
through the rain falling down;
falling down to the ground.

And little silver drops
fall again and again
and again without stop
upon my window pane.

And, running through my brain
as they race down the pane
is the thought, not quite sane,
that raindrops are like trains.

Suddenly, the raindrops
stop just as the train stops;
I get out of the train
and the sun comes out again.