Tuesday, May 20, 2014

The Trooper

The storm blew in from the West
and out through the veranda door
so quickly, a white knot of thunder
in the already black night

that I forgot about the oil lamp
that I was reading by on the terrace 
when all Hell broke loose , fat raindrops 
carpet bombing my peaceful evening.

Somehow it survived the rain and gusts,
burning wildly from side to side
never surrendering until the last drop of oil
was gone, empty in the now silent, wet darkness.

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