The rain in vain goes mainly down the drain

 Massive storm in Singapore. 

The rain in vain goes mainly down the drain,

Unnoticed tears from heaven’s cloudy pain.

It taps on rooftops, dances on the street,

But meets its fate where gutters grimly meet.

No blossom drinks, no stream is fed today,

Just storm run-off washed swiftly far away.

The thirsty earth, in drought and silent strain,

Still waits while blessings squander down the drain.

How strange, this gift we fail to catch or hold,

This silver wealth more precious than pure gold.

In cities paved and sealed by our design,

The rain in vain is lost, a wasted sign.