Out my half-open window,
I could smell the rain that poured
onto the street.
And like a woman’s fine hair,
it weaved back and forth
on the road, blustered by
the wind.
Like a woman’s fury,
thunder shook my walls.
Tail light reflections on the road
sizzled as though her outbursts
smoldered and fumed.
I listened to her anger,
her indignation,
her riled mood,
and her irritability,
until she finally calmed down,
and fell asleep.
Women are often compared to rain and thunder, their moods, oftentimes anger, associated with such tempestuous weather.
I bet you know where I could go with this, but I won’t.
It’s a nice poem. Very accurate.
Thank you for the comment, Adira. Much appreciated. 🙂
Brilliantly penned, Tim. Fantastic write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thanks very much, Damian. It’s good to see you here. 🙂