Storm
Patter on the window,
From a dark and dreary Cloud,
The lightning really bright,
And then the thunder banging loud.
The memory of childhood,
As the rain prevented play,
My mother’s words still ringing loud,
“No playing out today”.
The raincoat made of plastic,
An umbrella in the hall,
Clothes spread over radiators,
No effect at all.
Puddles quickly forming,
Hoping that there won’t be floods,
Rain crushing down the growing plants,
Eliminating buds.
“Wet play” the cry in school,
Books and games all taken out,
The teachers really miserable,
Without a single doubt.
Splashing in the puddles,
On the way home after school,
Wetting all the other kids,
While acting like a fool.
The rivers getting fuller,
Will they shortly break their banks?
And as the roof leaks close the school,
The kids are saying thanks.
A cold and wet experience,
They want it back to norm,
But nobody has really planned,
For the eye of this storm.
And still the storm is raging,
As we sit there looking out,
There’s flooding and there’s leaking,
And a broken water spout.
And then the tempest eases,
And the rain begins to cease,
The lightning has stopped striking,
And the thunder now at peace.
They each survey the damage,
Now the sunshine makes it warm,
The aftermath needs action,
Now we’ve bid farewell the storm.
They tidy up, they use their mops,
The buckets emptied too,
It’s back to school on Monday,
With the roof repaired then too.
They try to see the positives,
Dismiss the floods from rain,
At least it was a thunderstorm,
And not a hurricane.
As things get back to normal,
And resume their normal form,
We know they’ll still be unprepared,
Next time there is a storm!
Copyright © Richard Tipping | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment