Heatwaves, Am I Right?
Oh to the rain that sits up in the clouds
Mocking me for standing on the dry ground:
Why do you not come at my beck and call?
Why do you briefly visit, if at all?
Why do you loom o’erhead but fail to fall?
The sun l scorches us, humid is the air
And sure, there is a patter, here and there
And yet you refuse to rain in full.
I can see your darkness swirling about
The torment of torrents wanting an out
Oh to the rain that sits up in the clouds
Mocking me for begging upon dry ground:
Until you begin I will simply sit.
Get on with it.
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