Listen to poem:
Storm
(Another childhood poem...quite old!)
Grey-black clouds above me roll
with a loud and fearsome tone --
huge dark boulders of the skies,
carved from granite-stone.
Forked bolts of lightning flash,
points just above my head --
sparks struck from the clash
of spears whose owners
long are dead. Glistening
drops of moisture fall
with a silence-shattering sound--
drops that are tears of souls
whose fears must, and
ever shall, abound.
The piercing wind-sound of the fury
screams an ultimatum in my ear --
it is insane shrieking from a witch
who fills mankind with fear.
Shaken by this awful show
of mighty forces in the night,
I, in haste, with head held low,
retreat within in fright.
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