Looks Like Rain
Black are the clouds
that sweep from the sea,
crashing through trees
to thrash toward me
Objects are flying
the air is alive,
a storm that rumbles
in sheets it arrives
A roof is walking
without any soles,
and the pants of priests
hang off light poles
A street sign flys past
at the speed of light,
a police car follows
its headlights shine bright
Deep in the cellar
we shiver and shake,
as the world around
turns into a lake
And all this goes on
inside my head,
cause outside my window
the silence is dead
Copyright © Jayne Eggins | Year Posted 2009
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