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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