All is silent, or as silent as it can be.

The sky is dark, you can hardly see.

The air is still, it is waiting.

It is nearly night, and the light is fading…

 

A light winks briefly above, then disappears as if shy.

Crash! The sound rips through the sky.

The thunder was the first note, the lightning like the conductor’s baton.

The sound hangs in the air and is gone.

 

The rain starts to drizzle from the sky, small at first, but growing in size.

The wind picks up, howling its cries.

The rain turns bitter and cold, it becomes hail.

The lightning flashes again, making the dark grey clouds look pale.

 

The lightning sets the tempo. Flash! Crash! The wind blows by.

The lightning sets the tempo. Flash! Crash! The rain falls from the sky.

The lightning sets the tempo. Flash! Crash! The thunder booms like a drum overhead.

The lightning sets the tempo. Flash! Crash! The trees shiver with dread.

 

The storm is perfect, in every sense of the word.

For brief moments, it just wants to be heard.

The lightning is deadly and beautiful, the light show stunning.

The storm lit from within, the silver grey and black looks cunning.

 

The storm moves away, the flashes coming from further and further in the distance.

The hails stops, there is no resistance.

The winds dies down, a gentle whisper in the night.

The rain slows and stops altogether, everything seems right.

 

All is silent, or as silent as it can be.

The sky is dark, you can hardly see.

The night sky above is speckled with stars; the moon is nowhere to be seen.

The last of the clouds on the horizon sparkle with their own silvery sheen.

 

The storm had come and gone,

No trace left behind, it had moved on.

For a moment, it had been perfect, but that moment had ended.

The rest of the world had forgotten; but I remembered.