The Storm

The dark night did his fearfulness arouse,

While flashing-booming-crackling filled the air.

This night of trepidation fills the house;

breath shortened; he ran fingers through his hair.

Dark fear descends the mountain with a scream,

like flames from mouths of dragons, fear burns deep.

He cannot rest, perchance he moves to dream.

There is no sanctuary within sleep.

With every fear that populates his heart,

his head is buried ‘neath the pillow soft.

The fear that stalks his soul will not depart.

“Perhaps this is the last time.” Then he coughed.

Brief reassurance panics, then soon flees.

All hopes and dreams will not his life appease.