The Storm

The Storm

The storm came swiftly to me,
blasted, black and gray.
Winds so fast and furious;
terrified I'd blow away.

Thunder clapped for lightning
as it struck a nearby tree.
Sliced in two within seconds;
fire was running free.

Train roared fiercely through the trees,
ripped free both live and dead.
Rain consumed the blazes,
contrition now instead.

The majesty and temper
still pervades my heart with fear.
I seek my soul's redemption
and pray that God might hear.

The storm came swiftly to me
and it made me think of you.
Blasted, black and gray,
twisted and cruel.

This is a rewrite of the original poem which had several errors in speech and grammar.
I hope this one reads better.