The Storm
the storm is coming
the winds are strong
they weave their whistles
into a song
the sound of lamentation
the widow’s lonely call
the storm, the storm is coming
the rain’s begun to fall
the storm lies over
the lightning gleams
terror in darkness
these fleeting beams
the flashes of existence
so delicate and frail
the storm, the storm lies over
the ground is raw with hail
the storm is passing
but distant sun
sheds light on wounds
never undone
for time cannot heal all
some sorrows sear the soul
the storm, the storm is passing
the storm’s taken its toll
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: