The weatherman warns of a coming flight of spectacular thunder-and-lightning storms, uncommonly ferocious, widely scattered. * * * One for me? A long-shot penny from heaven? * * * The fruits of my vigil: horizon lightning, a mumble of thunder a spittle of drizzle. I call it a night feeling an old man's echo of a teenager's heartache: wronged, deceived, dismayed that the unexpected hadn't happened.
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I love thunderstorms as long as I’m not under sail!
A beautiful poem about disappointment..."feeling an old man's echo of a teenager's heartache."