Late hours, rain pouring outside my window

Passing showers, thunder clamoring, and I know

It’s the time, when I find the words so easily

When they rhyme, thoughts coming on, so peacefully

What is it, about the sounds of nature’s wrath?

Why do I sit, instead of seeking out its path?

To wander about, feel the water on my face

I have no doubt, I’d get lost in such a place

Instead I’m here, listening instead of being

How I wish to disappear, the power surely freeing

To get lost, in a world outside this room

At any cost, to do away with all this gloom

But here I stay, my fingers speak of what I see

In every way, I shall remember, this is me

©2018 Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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