Never Trust The Weatherman

The weatherman looked me right in the eye

and promised sunshine

yet here I sit, an inside child

looking out through curtains of rain

 

it is grey outside, and inside and

the wind sneers down the chimney

while the radio tells me

Aretha Franklin died today

and then, it all makes sense

 

©2018 BY STEVE DENEHAN. PROUDLY CREATED WITH WIX.COM

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