The wind picked up very strongly
As we travelled across the moor
Our path stretched out endlessly
Over heather and grassy mounds
There was hardly a tree in sight.
A constant tirade of words
Repetitive dull and sharp,
Assaulted my exterior endlessly
A constant whining harp
The unfairness of life in general.
The wind blew fiercer and fiercer
Cutting us through to the bone,
Aunt Aggie and I were on our way home
Through the teeth of the windy storm
Words and wind mingled together.
We took shelter in a shack on the way
From the worst of the gusting wind,
As the stream of moaning continued
I shut my ears and took shelter
My mind switched off the windy nag.
Copyright © Written by John Yeo
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