The sound of rain
upon the tin roof, taps
like fingers drumming,
it raps a rhythm.
If you listen closely
to the wind rushing through
the rustling leaves.
Echoing
like a guitar strumming.
The sound of thunder
in the distance rumbling,
like cymbals hitting a crescendo.
The orchestration of a tornado
as the stormy winds blow.
The hurricane howls a vocal,
a wail in the hailstone sky.
Slow and deep,
low it creeps,
before picking up speed
and screeching
until your ears bleed.
Then the sound of silence.
Still, nothingness.
The steady vibration
as your ears clear.
Popping, as the pressure drops.
Here in the eye of the storm,
serenity washes away
the waves of anxiety.
for just a few brief moments.
Enough to breathe clearly anyway.
Then the sound
louder than ever before,
a wall of noise roars.
Pushing right
through your body,
Through your soul.
Reverberating the bones,
shaking your atoms,
ears screech in pain.
Blending the blood in your veins.
Rushing, crushing, clanking sounds,
scratching nails down a windowpane
the sound of a drill bit in the ear.
Twisting deep into your brain.
Then it starts to slow, easing off.
The pitter patter,
of raindrops,
bouncing off
a tin roof.
Thanks for reading
Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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