I press my nose upon the glass
And pray to God this storm will pass
We have been waiting ever long
The night moves on, the wind is strong !
When I was young I loved the sound
Of howling winds blown round and round
It made me think of Sherlock Holmes
Those scary stories, eerie poems
The moors, a place of mystery
And home to curiosity
I fantasized about Heathcliff
And often thought, oh my, what if ?
My life’s been full of books and things
They filled my days with fairy wings,
Now I am old, too old to fear
If life and death are moving near
And so tonite brash winds may blow
What changes if I stay or go ?