Poem about where I live

[boothros]

For just two weeks the sun has ruled, the nights have very rarely cooled. I’ve sweated, sworn and cursed the heat, with puffy legs and swollen feet

No matter, a storm is coming

The plants I grew with so much hope, have shown me that they cannot cope. Their leaves are shrivelled, brown and dry, I have to laugh, else I would cry

No matter, a storm is coming

The little dog, so old and frail, has lived two weeks in doggy jail. In darkened rooms, no walks no fun, she must have wondered what she’d done

No matter, a storm is coming

The hordes have come to spoil the peace, their parking wonders never cease. And when they flee for their abodes, they block up all the bloody roads. I hope they have enjoyed their fun. I hope they soaked up all that sun. For those that live here day by day, now wish for cold and wet and grey

No matter, a storm is coming

The skies are dark before it’s night. It IS a rather scary sight. But those who live here understand. A storm is set to hit the land.

Hopefully, no matter what, a storm is coming…