Just pondering, why write
Just got up, there’s a loud rattle at the door
Storm blue and black break through the windows
The day it blistered its final fallen drop of sun
Maybe it’s just another deluded tease before nightfall.
If only the wind would be set on howling its flute sounds
Perhaps the late rain on the hot tin would bring a few chills
So why bother to wait beneath another thin scrub line day
When tonight the ocean roars a fresh merchant’s south-east’a.
Grab the keys, bolt out the door
To flee this evenings late shade of green
To pick up some time, just vanish to between
Where the dark just rattled through moments before.
Into another sleepless crooked broken way
without no stars, out on a road miles short.