Storm Poem by Toni Frye

The storm is coming.
The rage of thunder.
The animals start to get under.
The wind is blowing.
The rain is roaring.
The hard drops just a flowing.
The flood will soon be here.
No sight of land near.
The gushing water.
The steady streams.
It takes me back to a april dream.
The falling trees lay spread across.
For us to move and walk beyond.
The storm is here.
The lightning is feared.
When ever will the sun appear.

Toni Frye