Around me wind blows
Howling up the funnel of a street
In and out and through the buildings
Buffeting and billowing
Lightening flashes in the distance
A quick reflection off the cloud
The breeze is cool
But I long for rain
Bucketting and plummeting down.
The trees they warn me
Of approaching storms
Get off, Get off
Stop typing now.
Demanding and persisting that I give up writing
Unplug the machine
Make it safe and sound.
Alas a crash
Too close for comfort
I must go
Lest the storm fries my machine
And yet I still risk a few more words
The rain, the rain is yet to plummet down.