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The Storm
Pitter-patter on the roof,
 Little feet or little hoof
 Wet and wishful tears of God,
 Blown about by Zephyr’s rod.
 Angry clouds torment the sky
 And the lightning flashes high.
 Then the thunder, voice of Zeus
 All the heavens shaken loose.
 Safe behind a window, warm
 Children sheltered from the storm
 Sip hot chocolate and they smile,
 Thunder raging all the while.
 This is what I want the most;
 Home and warmth that I can boast.

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