Black clouds ahead, there's a storm
moving in;
she can here the thunder rumbling,
before the storm begins.
Raindrops on the window, dancing
amongst themselves;
animals fleeing for safety, as she's
done so often herself.
The blackness of the sky, awaiting
whatever may come;
anticipating havoc in their world,
as she has many times done.
The swaying of the trees, blowing
a soft kiss goodnight;
to the bright, sunny clouds, that
don't excist in her grey life.
The wind becomes stronger now, the
storm is oh, so near;
she watches as the lightning strikes,
and thinks, 'My storm is already here'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem