Storm
I love lapping up that sound that can only be natural.
Boom.
I wake up to clouds illuminated for a moment.
I saw that bolt strike a tree come crashing, and thrashing down.
Shivers.
I saw myself as a caterpillar in that tree.
Got whisked away, burned, or survived magically.
So yes, I love storms, even though they chase my inner sanctuary with those ideas.
I have this soft spot for these walls and roof.
But still.
When I go back to sleep?
I dream of the howling wind.
That seems to emanate from under my bed.
Cozy.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
