Raging tropical storms lay true romance to waste
spilled wine seeps and grapes rot on withering vines.
True, chosen few approve of its new bitter taste
even honesty must reluctantly pay heavy fines
nothing more than harsh showers that make us scream
the whispers that ripple and flux from strangers
secret affairs we hold in our rosy charms and schemes
words that we play deceive us that can never be amend