The Perfect Storm Poem by Yvonne Rautenbach

Trapped in the perfect storm,
Telling it like Dickens
Tortured till the Urban dawn,
I long for fields and chickens.
And would the burner keep us warm?
With buses keeping pace
Is it better to be revived
Or die in a lovely place?
I want to be woken by the birds
And covered by the stars
Away from beeping, crashing doors
And Whirring chirping cars.
Where boots are all we need to buy
With no-one to impress
Maybe a church upon a hill
To wear one Sunday dress.
I want to be at peace again-
Not quaking in my shoes
Or staying in for Amazon
For a pack of Chinese screws
I'll listen to the silence
Get up at the crack of dawn
Uplifted by a simple life
Away from the perfect storm.