The Storm

As the rain rattled its wrath with impunity
I stood in my doorway
And thought of her.

As the winds ripped out all the light
I peered into darkness
And I saw her.

While the thunder groaned and bellowed
I stepped into the air
And burned for her.

As the lightning cracked open the night
I slipped to my doorstoop
And I missed her.

© 2002 Butch Maxwell


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