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.