A cloak billowing in the distant wind,
Waves crashing along the rocky coasts;
A silent song could be heard from within,
The empty and abandoned outpost.
Quills, cars, antiques galore,
All excite him just the same;
All the written words in a downpour,
Just for fun not fame.
Standing in the midst of the war,
Watching and looking at the devastation caused;
Contemplating on the result of the downpour,
Before which it had paused.
In a weirdly inappropriate scene, this was set,
Only just to be seen by others;
I just hope I don’t get the sack,
What I meant, I’ll smother.