Weak for a first post back but I had to write something I experienced due to weather for journalism and this is what I came up with.
The rain is pounding off my car playing a metallic tune. I lie on my bed and let the beat ease my mind and bring me closer and closer to the edge of my subconscious. As the sandman starts to sprinkle his dust on me I am awoken to the pungent smell of a freshly lit cigarette. I can picture the cloud of smoking seeping its way in through my window and levitating above my head.
Looking out my window I see a man I see everyday, every time I see this man there is a divide between us. Today, however, the cook’s counter is replaced by my window. He stands there ignoring the signs that say smoking within 10 metres of the building is illegal; dragging on his cigarette.
He finishes his cigarette but pauses outside my window a little longer. He starts to sway back and forth, at first I think maybe there’s something wrong. Then I realize that he is swaying in rhythm with the rain drumming off the hood of my car. The cook and I share a moment with nature’s music. He heads back inside and I let the music and the sandman take me away.
My Great Perhaps 