Looking out my window, it is so clear that you are there,

whipping the trees like custard, a tile flying in the air.

birds have flown to outwit you, or hiding in the trees,

hard rain washing windows, though it’s difficult to see.

Who knew a storm was coming, did the weatherman lie,

did you sneak up from nowhere, to take us by surprise.

Bang, and the bin fell over, the garbage is doing a dance

will you be gone by lunchtime, is there the slightest chance?



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