Poem: The Storm

The Storm

 by June Nash

.

Storm builds,

though water’s still calm

Smell it,

the damp dewy balm

Lead air,

heavy with quiet

Pressure,

will drop lower yet

 .

Anger,

like a storm will rage

Quiet,

begins the first stage

Tension,

can smell how it reeks

Quiet,

when nobody speaks

.

At first,

a few drops of rain

Oozing,

beads of pent up pain

Tears change,

become mad downpour

Bursting,

winds blow open door

 .

Unleashed,

rains pour from the sky

Released,

as ill feelings fly

Thunder,

clapping, lightning flash

Raging,

until no wind left

 .

Lets up,

storm has run it’s course

Done in,

from thunder voice hoarse

Storm clears,

all to say’s been said

Head aches,

eyes swollen and red

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