some days I grieve alone
as sunshine sounds obscene
no help or match for rain
not caring where it goes
to leave a chequered scene

the clouds hide their intent
build-up to manic heights
and storms attack our land
to savage crumbling shores
and saturate the nights

I stare in broken starts
I've seen too much that stings
with stoic eyes some pray
and mop the mud-soaked rooms
we wish our homes had wings