The Storm Poem by J.B. LeBuert

The storm arrived with fierce force
Following its predicted course
Fore warned that it was coming
The sky had broken its plumbing

Rain coming in a torrential downpour
Lightning split the front door
Wind unrelenting
No time now for repenting

The ground starting to flood
Soon rivers of mud
Such a precarious place
Maybe safer in space?

Now that locomotive sound
Too late for refuge below ground
Everything in its path, gone
No grass left on the front lawn

Your face before me now
It's time to take that last bow
Up flying twisting inside the cyclone
At least now, you're not alone

Too late for prayers
Too late for your cares
Will death be sweet?
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