Weather Forecast

Four corners of sky blue he stumbled in,
A familiar world within a nation of strangers,
Eyes glued to a glowing screen, over machinery din,
Relaying tales of scandal and unforeseen dangers.

The fallen angel sits in her usual posture,
He barged in without a welcome for the matter,
Throwing caution to the wind he sat, in his head a picture,
To relive a moment or two of merry chatter.

A duel of words they engaged a while,
With no intent of malice, just light-hearted banter,
Sarcasm a theme as bitter as bile,
The result a hint of a smile; or light laughter.

As they say all good things come to an end,
Drumming light taps on the door a bad omen,
A banquet ill planned and a will to bend,
An exchange of harsh words, it felt an hour or ten.

Dismayed he watched a fading smile as uneasiness lingered,
His efforts at giving solace were as futile as ever,
A dark cloud she became, rainfall and murder conspired,
The storm was coming and there was no shelter.

His welcome was soon over, out he was ushered,
In the darkest hour, his guitar the greatest comfort,
Damned he sat, numbed from being clobbered,
Knowing twilight will end without need for pointless effort.