My Fair Lady

The door slammed shut, 
and so did she.
Thunder shook the window,
yet steady stood she.
It had rained all of 'noon,
had taken half my evening,
when she refused my coffee,
gentlemen; that's the beginning.

'What's the matter with you?
Is it the rain, or its noise?"
"It's the clouds; it's their voice."
The outdoor had turned monochromatic,
with constant chorus of patter,
The indoors were turned to yellow,
adding enough gloom to our chatter.
"I hear their rumbling,
they've been crying all day."
"That's sad to hear,
what else do they say?"
Her gaze held to the floor,
those little fists clenched tight,
her lips remained firm,
she's ready for a fight.
"I hear a different rythm,
they tell of the lands past,
they sing praises of the wind,
the sailor with broken mast."

There's curiosity in those eyes,
she eases to the beats,
the thrumming, the pelting, the dibble,
I see those swaying pleats.
We waltz in the hall,
there's dinner on the table,
Gentlemen; I'll take your leave,
have to sing her a fable.