The TempestA Poem by Lloyd B. Wolf
The raging winds that whip and wail,
The incessant beating of the hail. No man was made to withstand the gales Of the Tempest storm; Female. Upon his back he would take nine, For chance to hear her thunders grace. And the lightning upon her face Oh the Tempest storm; Female. And should she decide to leave him then, His body broken on the ground. From his bloodstained lips the name shall ring, Of the Tempest storm; Female. © 2012 Lloyd B. WolfAuthor's Note
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Added on September 22, 2012 Last Updated on September 22, 2012 Author
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