I drizzle like rain clouds;
in a stormy weather I blow
might gusts of wind that rattle
and shatter staid glass doors.

Enough now of the molten sun;
no need for the lava that flows inside.
We are made of sterner stuff,
all we need is two plonks of ice!

Like the nauseating rumble
crawling up my throat, I glide
in the sheath of subdued sensation
all is well, all is alright.