Storms are beautiful you see,
The big black clouds,
The angry sea,
raging from the sky, to me.
A purple light flashes,
It reflects in my eyes,
But I twirl in the rain,
Who CARES if I’m not dry?
The thunder crashes,
the ground trembles with power.
I stand in awe,
Being drenched by the shower
When the dim green light
begins to fade,
the storm packs up,
and it rolls away.
It rumbles across the,
United States,
causing awed poets,
to stare, to wait.
When it reaches eastern skies,
I feel sure there will be,
Somone composing in the storm,
Just like me.
for storm writers
>Starr Williams
