first makes me
imagine a poem
that talks about
an ink-stained sky
and brooding clouds
and chilling air,
all of which
can be taken as
ominous signs of
impending doom;
but that can be bad
so instead lie still
and listen to the
comforting melody
the rainstorm plays on
my old tin roof
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 6:38 PM UTC
first makes me
imagine a poem
that talks about
an ink-stained sky
and brooding clouds
and chilling air,
all of which
can be taken as
ominous signs of
impending doom;
but that can be bad
so instead lie still
and listen to the
comforting melody
the rainstorm plays on
my old tin roof