#WritcoPoemPrompt64
The heavens are making lines in the sky,
Followed by roaring sounds,
So loud, could be heard and seen wondrously high,
With bits of colossal shaking pounds
Even the indwellers of the sky has sunk in the deep of its existence
The curtains of its abode has turned into a gloomy dark shade
The inhabitants of the underworld lie in wait for a return in harvest.
© Nonny