There is rain falling.
I am one of them:
One of the many drops leaving imprints on the floor,
Slowly swallowed up... muddled and covered by a thousand more.
What is the point of my story?
Between two trees is a blank and dry spot,
As though inviting me to join it, and I do.
That is where I sit now as I write this,
Hoping to leave an imprint of my own.
Benjamin Feliciano
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/clumsy-little-raindrops/
