― Wyatt B. Pringle, Jr.
When the Moon has gone to bed,
A sudden autum storm
Breaks out above my head.
The rain comes down
And lightning flares again,
And trees outside
Start boiling in the wind.
Then the house goes still
and the air goes dead,
And I hear your words
Echo in my head;
And I want to wake you up
Admit where I went wrong,
But excuses rise again
Like the refrain in a song.
It's useless to deny
The truth of your complaints,
And harder to comply
When it's so damn hard to change.