1. the storm
The tempest roars and I know that she is coming, Crouched on the top of a rooftop I wait; while the clouds above me turn to grey, The once floppy grass straiten at her arrival and the storm subsides to bait,the grey clouds move out of her way, as she gallops through this lane. She does not look, turn or fiddle, while the birds above her dance in praise. In the kindest of gestures; the wind kisses her her face, runs its embrace through the soft white silk, that from her arms and body it drapes.
As i watch the girl in the white dress, ride away into the distance of the far away, i am left with the soft pitter patter of her horses steps leading into forever. And like that the tempest grew back with anger and anguish to its dismay the birds clawed and crazed, while the grass bent in sadness almost devoured in her departure. And i will sit here and wait until she lights up this putrid place with her horse and her return. But for now the girl in the white dress has danced away.