The Storm

The Storm

I sit inside the walls of wood

And drywall and plaster

I sit atop a bed made of springs

All the while that I type this

The song of thunder sings

Lightning comes in through my curtains

And clouds and night

I can see the light's bright flash

All the while that I type this

the wrath of the sky does clash

I can feel my room shake

And quake and break

I can feel ideas begin to brew

All the while that I type this

The sound of storms ring true