Last Night
Through a lightning's gash
By a war-like clash
Nigh blinded! Oh the bedlam!
Then the expulsion
Of something, yond the realms of
Washed up repulsion!
With its dragon's wings
And its bellowings
What flew down our street; over
Rooftops; yours, mine.
Great fear, formed a storm from out.
Greatest accursed sign.
Copyright © James Watkin | Year Posted 2021
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