we saw the storm brewing
like watercolour dripping on a page
each section of the sky, a different shade of blue
like when the milk in a cup of coffee curdles
and splits in two.

i should throw it all away,
or wash it down the sink
but when the dust settles
i'll still have so much to say,
by then it'll be too late.

we saw the storm brewing,
but we stayed quiet in the stillness
like a train stuck in it's tracks
because although the end was near
the sun would sometimes shine
through the dark clouds
which plagued the air above us.

yes, we saw the storm brewing
but it did not prepare us
for when the storm finally came.