by Profe Steve
Distant thunder rolls Rumbles ominous warning Storm winds whisper doom Across the pleasant gardens Where the peaceful flowers bloom
Icy rain will pour As clouds weep scalding tears The moon hides her face Behind black veils of sorrow Lifts her eyes in search of grace.
Death shall stalk the land, Sharpened scythe to reap the souls Who wander out unheeding, Far from fireside hearth and home Knowing not doom is speeding
Deep call the billows Swirling, pounding of madness O’er the boiling sea Misty eyes look for release From this fate to be set free.
*** My progress board: