A leaf twirls down
avoiding the puddle beneath.
The morning, already wasted
before she even fell into her dreams.
The land ahead misty now;
the gift approaches.
Nothing more -
than a subtle hiss.
The smoke can’t get away.
Swelling upwards repeatedly,
beaten beneath.
Pigeons sit cuddled
to avoid the consequence.
The hiss gets louder -
rapidly.
The lovers lock their door.
No more shadows;
a cold floor.
Tiny blue schoolboys
splash this evening through.
Expanding goosebumps
rouse her crouched silhouette;
motionless -
beside the window.
Window-sill droplets
plunge hastily,
almost in unison -
into the clear abyss
so steep below.
He rides away from the storm,
taking the sun with him.
It’s getting dark and cold.
Darker,
colder, still.
Sunny days don’t offer strength.
Thunder adds to the symphony.
She pulls the storm clouds over her.
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