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Image for the poem THE STORM

THE STORM

The cool, crisp, fresh air,
thunder,
lightning,
someone's there,
"The Sky is Crying"
and I know
it's watching me.

A flash of light,
a creak of beams.
the pouring rain,
the vivid dreams.
The eerie sounds
throughout the place,
the rhythmic pattern,
the steady pace !

The sudden roar
of rolling sound,
it pounds the air,
vibrates the ground.
I lie in bed
taking it in
the sky's so powerful
when a storm begins.

Morganpoet
Written by Morganpoet
Published
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