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Poetry of boredom (or from boredom)
Rain
My friend hath returned
Pit pat by my window pane
I've longed to see you
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You woo me with your gentle voice
Your touch, at once soft, and yet a beating
You arrive, my spirits rejoice
Long I've waited for this meeting
Come closer, I see you from afar
Yet when you come, I am retreating
Blanket, fireplace, house, is where I are
But I'll enjoy you from my seating
Your thunderous friends, mine shall not be
When we meet, I flee your greeting
Not exposed, though shade, or car, or tree
For if t'were colder, you'd be sleeting
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"It is useless for sheep to pass a resolution in favor of vegetarianism while wolves remain of a different opinion." -- William Randolph Inge
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