Title: The storm
by Z from Lancashire | in writing, poetry
Thud Thud Thud Thud Thud,
The constant Torrents of its ammunition,
Fueling it never ending power,
Hitting all within its reach,
Thunderous bellows from high,
Flashes from afar,
Hurried bodies attempting to escape,
The clutch of its power chasing the figures,
With all its might to grasp them.
The barrage continues into the darkness,
Never tiring,
Never stopping,
We shelter from its grasp.
But it Will prevail.
The ghastly British weather
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