Run to the hills with the wind in your hair.
Tripping out as if you don't care.
Chase the birds out of the trees.
Avoid winding up the honey bees.
Incessant sound of pouring rain.
Infinite tapping on my brain.
A spring that's coming is coiled fast.
The wind and rain a malevolent blast.
Swirling around telephone mast.
A maelstrom of communication.
Feel vibration of melodic calling.
The Sand is clogged.
Tis waterlogged.
The rain and wind shall surely blow.
Where they shall blow us none shall know.
The future hangs upon the stars.
Of all the boys in all the bars.
The poetic pen shall be irreverent.
But, all shall be indifferent.
And the poet self-indulgent.
(c)LIVVI