A Storm is brewing

12/11/2019



The wind howled across the plains
Challenging the might, of all touched
The blades of grass, soon to be trampled
The quenching of the land, in red, awaited
On its wing, an omen was carried
Victor and vanquished, to be soon tested

The dark clouds, nor grey, no silver lining
Bathed the field in pitch blackness
Soon to relieve its heavy nectar held
With fierce lighting, shaming sun, blinding sight
Deafening thunder, exploding hearts n mind
To wash the land away of crimson red