Tempest

Thunder's more than just a sound, it also has face.
I heard rumblings in her look that froze me in my place.
Instead of whistling wind, I heard the whooshing of her breath
followed by a silence that contained the sound of death.

The crash and drum of splitting air as something hit the wall,
like a screaming warning siren that held me in its thrall.
Her pain screeched through the house, like nails against concrete,
followed by a splashing.  Damn! I forgot to lower the seat!




Notes
A different kind of thunderstorm . I thought a little humor might break repetitiveness of your reading.
Prompt: "Create a thunderstorm using onomatopoeia"
8 lines
Lesson Two: Onomatopoeia