Storms

Storms

I've grown to love the storms;
they are so real
and full of the excitement that I feel
when gazing out my window at the snow
or walking where the winds of winter blow.
Sunlight enchanted me in days gone by
when I was seventeen and shy
and reached to pluck the blossoms from the bough,
but, oh, it is the storms that lure me now,
Storms that from the summit high
flash their messages across the sky
and down the canyons, roaring through the night,
color all the sleeping world in white.
I used to think that when I'd gotten old,
I'd build up many fires against the cold
but I was wrong; there's nothing warm
can thrill me like the magic of a storm!