Nights on the terrace

Silent lightning flashes its grin,
behind the sneaking guerrilla clouds,
healing winds scramble to sooth the bare skin,
as the bloodless war of elements rages on.

I lay awake on the terrace,
summer eyes heavy with memories,
remembering such glorious battles,
of careless nights long lost.

Music

Don't know how that crooked
shining brass;
the saxophone sings
But when it pours music
liquid;
grabs in its clutches
a fistful of aching heart.