On one unfortunate cloudy morn’ I awoke,
To drizzling skies on high plains about,
I set out on a slothful realm of a speedy clock
Hasting to revive this weary soul commissioned,
On the way, the fiery storm broke,
Pouring down as never before; my further route
Drowned in a flash, and I trudged a mound in soak,
As memories flashed from sluggish past of a life wasted…
Waited I as the storm seems to go ghastly amok,
Now sheltered in an old church tower on the brow,
With wait of destitute, hope of an imbrued cloak,
Abroodedlife, wasted in ruminating sorrow
In time, ravaged walls buoyed afloat, oh look!
Shielded inside is my soul, my pride
Rested as the chief guest: like a foreign bloke,
Lasting those final breaths as lazy, cozy and sluggard…
