The Storm Poem by Wilson Tinotenda Waison

No wonder why you are barren
With you the trees to shade off
Even your night so cold like Karen
Devoided of affections, Her bluff.

No wonder how you craft brethren
Your blizzards that is so inflicting
To wilt my lily and rose garden
And to my skinny peel the piercing.

No wonder where you descent
Even the gutter moan in dawn
Oozing due, your frost crescent
That bites, deeply and down.

No wonder whom you are
To have ceased all that blaze
My kindled lit now so blare
As your fog brought illusive maze.