The thunderstorm was rolling in heavy
Each lightning strike
A deadly forked tongue
From the heavens above
As the torrential rain
Poured down through the ceiling
Of the leaky roof of the church
That sat on top of the hill
Surrounded by dark skies
The rotted wooden window frames
With their intricate art smashed
Creating a kaleidoscope of colour
Waned upon the floor
As the door creaked
And in you walked
Soaked to the skin
In your white lace dress
Your mascara running
Down from your eyes
Creating a black like scar line
That had fallen fresh from your eyes
Within those moments
Time itself stopped
No thunder no rain
No lightning
For it was as if
Even nature itself
Was dumbfounded
By your beauty
© Valhalla bound