Leaky Attic (Poem)

I wrote a musical today but the clouds didn’t want to hear it..
They kept saying something about the rain.
People who come over say my attics a little leaky.
I think that could be whats drowning all my thoughts.
eh who knows? I don’t know anything about roofing.
I do know if you are standing on one you are bound to see something interesting, possibly a fork in the road.
I would tell someone traveling the road.

“one path is surely a right path”
but what do I know about right and wrong or traveling for that matter.



A woman walks by my window whistling. I look out wondering whether the weather will be windy all week, while a willow wades in the wind, Next to a washbucket with what looks like a wilted withered wild windsown weed whispering “water why am I not wet?”