A storm is approaching.
Waters are fading from cobalt to grey;
whitecaps begin their wind-dance on the bay.
Crab like, the boats scuttle in to the quay.
Red flags are out. There’s a storm on the way.
All the sea craft are secured at the pier.
Windows are battened down. Beaches are clear.
Lightning and thunder are getting quite near.
The storm’s not coming. It’s already here.
An entry for the "PDG Alumni Challenge Forum" [13+] "Mirrored Voices."
The Challenge: Choose a partner and write a stanza each of a poem, trying to make it sound as if the poem has been written by just one person.
This entry is a collaboration between HuntersMoon (560) and Cherokee Rose (12)
Thank you for taking the time to read our poem. Please, as long as you’re here, leave a comment. Criticisms, thoughts, reactions, yes – even praise – are all equally welcome *Smile*