Andrina sits on the hillside watching 

Events unfold at her feet 

Seeing lives living and dying 

She never misses a beat  

Her curios and stories scattered everywhere 

As toys on a playroom floor 

All laid bare for none but her 

She will change the ending once more 

The wind whistles round at her fingertips 

And she whispers words of yore 

Screaming wildly that unhinged anger slips 

Calling up a night of storms and thunder 

Determined to have her will she dips 

Dropped to ground she doesn’t care to touch 

Watching as her little paradise shows 

It’s never gonna be the green haven she craves 

Till she tills at the earth mixing 

The shadows are beautifully existing 

Her voice howls and squeals as she goes 
Ailsa 

©AilsaCawleyPoetry2017