The trees fight the whistling wind, strength is their resilience.
The windows scratched by wild man who dances in my garden.
Naked fingers,
Realms of weather.
The rain is lashing all that's bare.
Tossed and turned without a care.
The cold hath teeth no man can see.
The ebony of darkest shade it keeps it's prisoners trapped inside.
Whilst in the house the sneezes freed.
Mother moon is hiding fast behind her clouds, those ones be blast.
Past midnight.
Morning lost, out of sight.
Frightful Saturday night.
(c)LIVVI