Weathering

Take it in, now,

Make it part of your wall,

The wall you’ll keep through the calm and the squall,

Your own iron pod,

Brass buzzing from the fray.

Brief times o’ silence

Keep siphoning away.

So when can I rest?

Need Silence for repairs.

But metal wears thin

And Silence falls away.

Author's Note

This is the first stanza of a longer poem I'm writing. What do you think?