The Weatherman

I left the emergency department,
I had to get back to my kids,
But more importantly the office,
And I had just sat down when,
Ignored screams approached
Like impending rainfall,
So i hid under my desk and,
As the clouds opened,
The rain found its way through a gap 
And a drop of blood ran down my cheek.
My colleagues ran, precipitation, down my face, 
I hid under my desk, waited in shelter.
Finally, as I had seen on the forecast,
Which they had always said was tosh,
The surge had stopped and I emerged.
Among smashed mugs kids had made, 
Was my files and phone, sigh of relief.
I wade through the puddles of my friends,
Biscuits I never offered litter their desks,
Pot plants lay prostrate on the carpet,
And to be honest, I wish the storm had swept me away.
I tap the button on the lift,
And as I gaze in the clean metallic reflection,
I see my friends spread evenly over the floor,
I step through the doors, into my room,
lay in bed, as we all do, 
Rain is scheduled for 6 hours time.