I sit and write,
sit and write,
sit and write.
The moon gazes upon my eyes
and I know it is time for bed.
I lie awake,
my head resting on my pillow.
The sound of hissing snakes
come from the outside of my window pane.
It gradually crescendos
like the sound of air.
The shadow of the dancing trees are drenched in Mother Nature's tears.
Streams of water rush down the street,
confused where to go.
I feel her anger through these walls,
filling the misty clouds with grid,
even though it's dark.
She may not rest tonight.
The wind is overbearing
and water covers her creation.
Oh, how the thunder screams
and bolts of lightning strike!
I wonder if sunrise will cure her anguish
and create light.