As claps of thunder strike a midnight sky,
the leaves of the trees by the window are shadowed across a dim room.
A single candle burns by the bed,
Casting a shadow of self doubt.
Who comes calling after all these years,
tapping at the glass,
mistaken by the tears falling from the eyes of one once loved.
Chills sweep through the once cozy room,
as a cold wind passes through,
snubbing out the flame of reasoning,
pulling close the face of love the trees bend to the ever lingering soul.
A flash of lightening flicks across the room as the thunder rolls thick,
a drawl as slow as time itself as the world stops.
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Submission Name: Not Sure
