The sound of raindrops on a tin roof.

Mystic gray skies.

The lonely whistle of a passing train.

The quiet silhouette of a billboard in the night sky.

City lights.

Broken soul.

Soaring dreams. Black crows.

My reflection in the window pane.

Rapid rising river flows by

Thunder storms

Tempest. Mysterious. Magic.

Solitary saxophone notes wafting

Television noise

Pulitzer prize sitting dusty on a shelf

Who lives there?