Escapology

You pack your bag, prepare for a day, for easy, breezy, for Summer Mondays but something in your gut gnaws at you; you know it, you've seen it before, it rolls across your brow and pulls at your reins. It closes the door and puts you back in the corner, writes a to-do list and and dresses your soft brown skin in so much cloth. Sit in the window and wait for the thunder to roar in. 

Wonder what will be left when the rain washes your summer away.