There I lied upon my bed with thundurus drops of rain falling upon my roof.

The wind is howling. The dogs being barking
As lightening glistens through the evening sky.

It cracks and pops like the sound of mighty cannon fire.

My sleep, my dream, is broken as my fear so gently comes upon me.

I look through my window.

The trees be bending.
The river is rising.
My hopes are sinking.
Children they be crying.

They'll be no fun.
No picnic in the park
No frisbees to be caught
No monkey bars to climb.

For the storm has come upon my little town.
Now my plans are not to be.
As I wait for the Storm to say goodbye.
Richard Michael Ragnanese
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