When the rain falls to ground —
Fills puddles that hide their depths —
I am soaked and half-drowned,
Shivering and out of breath.
When the sun tries to shine —
Tries to pierce through woollen clouds —
I stumble around blind,
Tired of this itchy shroud.
When the air pants gently —
The wind barely on the move —
I am caught in a whirling frenzy,
Windswept and badly bruised.
When the clock chimes timely —
Chimes keenly upon all that’s been —
I do feel so very lonely,
Surrounded by broken things.
When the reason within me fizzles —
My balance ebbing further away —
I’m a mess of what feels like riddles,
Less of myself today.
When that above does happen —
Visits from unpleasant guests —
I wonder how I caught the habit
Of making them up a bed.