There was a disobedient child
who liked the wind when it was wild
and furthermore was very fond
of puddles deep as any pond.
She longed to dip and splash her toes
and feel the rain upon her nose.
When her mother begged her, Not Today!
She stamped and went out anyway.
The puddles round her ankles swished
and turned to rivers, so dismayed,
she pulled her pink dress up and wished
that she had stayed at home and played.
The wind blew at a rate of knots.
The water reached the chimney pots.
Her little body, like a leaf
Was torn away from woodland reef.
And Oh! If you could see her sink,
like scattered petals, swathes of pink.
When, at last she fell into the deep
the child became the storms to keep.
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