Unable to think for what I hear…

The rain on the roof so loud,

Like bullets fired from the clouds,

In rapid succession they do hit us so proud,

Trying to avoid the sound I pull over myself a shroud…

I cannot think, nor write, nor see the light,

Nothing when the rain does come this hard is bright,

I cannot hear to myself what I think,

Hope into the mud we do not sink…

Thunder vibrates my very being,

Lightening is the only thing I am seeing,

A sudden flash of daytime light,

The gods do take pictures to in the future remind us of our plight…

Unable am I to think,

Nor can I sleep; I am going over the brink,

So much noise, so much pressure,

On my mind, my neck, my cord that is spinal,

This for right now, my poem that is final…

            © ed ~ 6/30/05