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When storms brew and wind blows,

the monsters all scream and roar,

not from surprise or horror you see,

but instead from joy a'more.

Watch the wind and stare into the lightning,

look directly into the strange storms,

for when you see them move about,

know that terror arrives . . . in its many forms.

There's the dark being who's a shade of black,

he blends into the darkest night,

the thunder above is his laughter,

which may just end your life.

Then there's the tree monster,

who feasts on your tire rope swing,

and sits next to your window all through the storm,

acting just like the real thing . . .

What about the rain ghoul,

who tries to sneak into your home,

through unsealed windows and holes in your roof,

all around your house, she freely roams.

And who could forget the wind freak?

Who picks up anything he can find,

throwing it at your windows and home',

howling like a dog left behind.

*                        *                    *

All these ghouls and more run amok all throughout the storm,

never stopping, never caring,

trying to get after you,

always wondering how you are faring.

They want to get in,

they want to feed,

they want to get a taste

of a small child, like thee . . .

So stay inside your bed

little ones, dear,

listen to your parents,

and the sound of the thunder near;

for when you cease

to stay inside,

the storm may take you

and you will find:

The dark being,

the tree monster,

the rain ghoul, 

the wind freak . . .

all these and more,

will not leave until . . .

The Storm is Nevermore.

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