Thunder explodes, my head
lightening flashes, my thoughts
wind wails, too much.
The streets lay bare,
naked of the glistening topcoat
of spilling tears.
A deprecated land
thirsty for the overspill
storms release.
Locked up clouds grow
old and grey,
lose their white perfection.
Heros search for the key,
give it up
for fantasy.
4/8/2001