Let the wind speak.

Standing by the window trying to count rain drops

Concentrated the writers mind.

Outside, the sky looked dismal and grey.

The soft zephyr, orchestrated

by tree branches swaying too and fro.

White washed walls

dulled by winters spell.

Evening drawing in

like a curtain of black ink cloud.

Today I remembered –

I will not go mad to suit you.

(c) Chris Black 2017.

Hear the spoken word version @

Soundcloud Chris Black36.