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The Storm

 

The sky was over-cast, and the clouds were gray

Just one more lovely morning that’s gone astray

I reached for my coffee as I stared through the glass

My only thought, “I should have mowed the grass.”

I watched as the wind blew about some debris

And noticed the dull aching in my arthritic knee

I took my cup and my dog out to the front porch swing

Where we sat and waited for the havoc the storm would bring

The wind was full of fury as it shoved the helpless clouds around

They grew darker with the bruising as the violence grew more profound

I could feel the anguish that was exposed in their mournful rumbling sound

Each time the sky lit up and crackled from the snap of its static filled whip

The chaos of the turbulent sky flashed before me as I took another sip

Maggie tucked her tail and moved closer as the darkness was split again

She looked now with cautious eyes as if to say she thought it time to go in

But I could not break the bonds that restrained me to this witness chair

I was tethered by an incomprehensible connection to this drama in the air

◄ uncertainty

Her Nightmare ►

Comments

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leon stolgard

Mon 26th Feb 2024 00:27

yep spooky us putting same themed poems on eh Tim and you have done so very very well indeed!

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John Coopey

Sun 25th Feb 2024 08:50

There is something immensely satisfying to be under cover in storm. Nice stuff, Tim.

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