Mindings

Wind was blowing agail
The rain always threatening to bucket down
upon my unguarded head and arms
but why, why must the sky be so bright
for it is night but for what is of this light!
The windy trees look weak
as the strong winds give them defeat
for what is a tree for not strong?
big tree, sturdy, strong
am i for now, wrong?
i sit in my chair
my chair right by the stair
for my children put me in this rocking chair
For what not allowed and old woman to move!
oh woe to the foe
who does not allow me to go!
go and run on my never youthful old legs
to be free of this wretched place
they call home.