Building Storms

Around me wind blows

Howling up the funnel of a street

In and out and through the buildings

Buffeting and billowing

Distorting sounds.

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.



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