The Storm, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The StormThe Waterspout, Gustave Courbet (1870)

The Storm

O that rain which comes in the darkest night
Shaking angrily my bedroom window
With its booming thunder and scaring light

Even glass within is showing some fright
A minor crack now beginning to show
O that rain which comes in the darkest night

Feeling that it rattles me just for spite
Tries to make within a horrific woe
With its booming thunder and scaring light

Bring my poor heart beat to a deathly height
Driving rain delivers its mighty blow
O that rain which comes in the darkest night

Makes my knuckles turn a ghastly pale white
Wondering what damages will it sow
With its booming thunder and scaring light

Now I’m waiting for the sun to shine bright
To spare me from this dark night’s awful glow
O that rain which comes in the darkest night
With its booming thunder and scaring light

Published by

bobsieczkiewicz

Husband, Father, Grandfather, Lover of all beautiful things. I love to read and write poetry. My favorite hangouts are libraries and museums and yet I love being outdoors. I am a dreamer of things that could be.

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