The perfect storm

A storm gathers at the edge of the horizon,

Growing at a frantic rate,

to catch them unprepared.


Thunder’s soothing melody rolls through the valleys,

Awaking spirits with its deafening roar,

Like a lion looking for a worthy prey.


The racing wind bends all who dare stand before it,

Ripping at their battered clothes,

They surrender to its wild touch.


The rain’s shivering embrace slides down their smooth skins,

Cold against their heated entanglement,

Soaking the soft soil at their feet.


Small drops turn into a silent but steady stream,

Quickly building up to a rushing river,

Creating a flood beyond any other.

The End

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