I'm tossing, turning, three forty am.
With closing eyes I'm falling fast to sleep.
The thunder outside made some booms and bam!
I laid there countless hours counting sheep.
I got up put on favorite flin flam.
The front door broke wide open with a slam,
and pushed back all my blankets in the dark.
The wind quietly rushed over the Jam.
The lonely dog began to howl and bark.
Outside shimmering sky was full of spark.
Some water droplets fell down; cold wet rain.
The air was full sound; angelic of hark.
That flash burned so hot h2o was slain.
The storm had passed, I shut the front door tight.
Then stayed awake, wrote poems rest of night.