Within the four walls
Below a roof
Busy with play of words
The poet is aloof.
The sky is breaking low
Pitter patter rain
Capture they must the flow
Of drizzles soothing pain.
Outside on a stretch of green
Drenched to the bone
A man with cracking skin
Hoeing from morn.
The toiler is tasked to ****
Paid by the hour
Must earn the precious quid
Whatever the shower.
The poet is lost in the toil
To grow his rhyme in shower
The **** works fast the soil
Growing hope by the hour.