Whether Weather

Candles like the kind my grandma would light in a storm We all huddled round clinging to the cross of Jesus Himself No talking no laughing no playing no heavy breathing Gods wrath may turn on you Rain that cascades down heavily bullying our rooftop Splatter of droplets joining their company at the puddle All is quiet except thunder Booming loudly likes it sees our sins Flowers crushed under the pressure of winds foot No power just a candle like my grandma would light Everybody's scared 'cept for me I admire proudly the dominance of the storm In awe of how tranquil it can make people Even humbly a fool wouldn't protest My mouth open wide Trying to taste the air catching the spray of water from the sky Old people say God is crying but whoever said we know what he feels Others say the devils beating his wife but how can evil chastise evil All I ever knew was that every element will have a chance to be noticed Drawing our attention from recitals, cook-outs To just stand and watch Candles that burn like the kind my grandma had