Storms Never Last

                                       It was a sticky hot summer’s night
                                       Of lightning flash and of thunderclap;
                                       It was a night of craze and of plight.
                                       It was a heat of the night cold snap,
                                       And that night they got it very right—
                                       Conceiving Storm on this wondrous height.

                                       It was the sun paled to the moon’s glow
                                       Of rage that shot streaks across the sky;
                                       It was the morning after the flow.
                                       It was the hello with no goodbye,
                                       And that morning Storm began to grow—
                                       She would be a storm that would not slow.

                                       It was a night of craze and of plight,
                                       Conceiving Storm on this wondrous height.
                                       It was the morning after the flow,
                                       She would be a storm that would not slow.
                                       At her birth, they vowed, “Storm’s never last”—
                                       What came last became first and life passed.