“The weather gods don’t seem too pleased with us?” Gun Roswell

If you expected sunshine,
Sitting on a terrace
With a cool glass of wine
And feeling, just fine

Then,
I hate to disappoint
Dearie,
But it seems,
The odds
Are heavily
Against you

The weather gods
Decided their jobs
Was to make you sob

Like the true sociopaths
Bringing on their wrath
Even if you did not need a bath

But soaking wet
Soon you’ll be
If you think
The game is set
Maybe
It is time to flee

Or then

Just forget,
The bummer
After all
It is summer
And just
Another day
In July