The storm, it is not passing by quickly
But the children are asleep in their beds
Should we awaken them all, so brashly,
or leave them at ease, to slumber instead?
The winds, beginning to knock at the door,
getting stronger and stronger each minute
They start to rattle; the boards on the floor
are creaking as wind slowly gets in it.
A loud crash of lightning hits trees outside
Perhaps they should prepare to run away
The calm lake waters now treacherous tides
A funnel takes form, dark menacing grey
Why should we wake them from their calm cool sleep?
It’s already done; the water’s too deep.
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 10:16 PM UTC
The storm, it is not passing by quickly
But the children are asleep in their beds
Should we awaken them all, so brashly,
or leave them at ease, to slumber instead?
The winds, beginning to knock at the door,
getting stronger and stronger each minute
They start to rattle; the boards on the floor
are creaking as wind slowly gets in it.
A loud crash of lightning hits trees outside
Perhaps they should prepare to run away
The calm lake waters now treacherous tides
A funnel takes form, dark menacing grey
Why should we wake them from their calm cool sleep?
It’s already done; the water’s too deep.
A take on the English sonnet form that revolves around a topic different than the typical one of love.