A Slow Storm
A Slow Storm
Ash gray clouds rest above the large white home.
All those within have sweaty palms and feet.
A slight wind blew when they stepped out to roam,
and now they must take care in what they tweet.
A slow storm is in play beneath the nails
of this historic, antiquated sight.
Solid search of memos and emails,
to reveal if it’s wrong or if it’s right.
The thunder rolls in heavy baritone,
reverberations rattling the front door,
a slow storm, brews in dark undertones,
like the one that took place in seventy-four.
All is lost for one man's want of a wall.
We know what ''goeth'' before there's a fall.
7/18/17
Copyright © Janis Thompson | Year Posted 2017
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