CLIMATE CHANGE

Rain sounded like buckets of water thrown at windows,
but now we've nearly destroyed ourselves, anything goes;
adapt or die, probably latter as though it didn't matter,
perhaps no weather in heaven, long gone pitter patter.

Turn the clock back to when things were temperate,
you could look at the azure blue sky and contemplate,
about what was ahead and no fears of the future,
but whatever eulogy, I can't deny that I missed her.

That heavenly window, no nice warmth of sunshine,
you might be cold outside but inside is really fine,
nothing can touch you now, no doubt or icy fingers,
can't resist a smile, the memory of discontent lingers.

There is no choice because may appear uninterested,
you won't make the paradise window, you're not invited. 
.