Lyn Poulton


Smokey Red Moon


The sky's a haze,
The moons on fire,
To breath fresh air,
Is my current desire.
The islands ablaze,
Evacuations a must,
There is no power,
Flames, the colour of rust.
Mother nature,
Has her ways,
A natural cause,
Lighting struck today.
The rains are falling,
The flames a dwindle,
So much damage,
From only a lightning kindle.
The sky's a haze,
Red moon on fire,
Fresh air once again,
Time to retire.

Submitted: Sunday, January 05, 2014
Edited: Monday, January 06, 2014

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