the present is ever but an amalgam of the past

another cottage, a different hammock

yet another thunder that splits the dead of night

maybe a different year but always the same havoc

swinging between relief and a jealous blues

knowing and seeing, what the flu's to a flooze

empty promises rose back with the wind

and tainted a care i could never rescind

after a red eye in the storm

the sky roars angrier than ever

it's a staring contest with the lonely island

from which i'd reaped savage berries earlier

i wonder which of us fought the hardest

we'll know once the calm sinks with the rain

i wonder who survived the tempest

we'll know once the seagulls fly again.