Treasure Island

Ruth warren

(5/4/1973 / LONDON)

Rolling Thunder


In the distance is the sound of rolling thunder,

A sound that makes you look for something to hide under.

Dark clouds race across the sinister night sky,

As the wind howls and like a banshee cries.

The thunder ever present comes closer still,

To intimidate and terrify and give a feeling of ill.

Lightening now illuminates the sky with a blue eerie spectre,

First in this, then that, then in your own frightening sector.

All now combine, lightening, thunder and howling winds,

Panic and fear are evident as natures turmoil begins.

The hours till dawn seem so very far away,

So under your pillow you are determined to stay!

Submitted: Monday, April 17, 2006

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