The Thunderstorm

Oh, yes, I do remember;
When thunder rolled that late September.
Melancholy nimbus, dark as doom;
Growling grumble and clamorous boom;
Distant clap and lurid light;
Electrified the indigo night.
Hurrying, scurrying through heavy downpour;
Splashing through puddles, drenched to the core.
Breathless, we ran helter-skelter;
Seeking out some temporary shelter.
Listening to the pitter-patter, pounding rain;
I wondered, would we ever be this close again?

2 Comments

  1. Funny, only the other day I was having a Twitter conversation with someone over the fact that I can’t remember my last really good thunderstorm…

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