It's pouring outside, which naturally sets me in the mood for writing and poetry, but a college mind sometimes has a hard time relaxing when it's adjusted to being serious. Nevertheless, I enjoy these rare Arizona nights with opened windows and doors, flannel pants and comfortable long-sleeves that don't match, damp hair that will curl when I sleep and a desire to retire while early while fighting the urge to stay up and read. I'd tune up the jazz if it didn't drown out the rain, and I'd put a pot on to boil if I had a stove and drank tea. I guess the only thing I really want right now is my Honey, chests rising and falling with the slow melody of a tired storm and together we'll fade away, quiet and warm. I settled here, at the keys, moments ago to write a melodic ditty; something that would compliment the pitter patter at the window and balcony bar. But nothing comes when you force it, like a stubborn dog to a bath, and now that I've gone on rambling I feel content and relaxed. The heat is on in feign of fire, and I hope Her lullaby continues until the night expires.