A shortened wick

A shortened wick
in an instant they came
cracking rooves and punching holes
with their thunderous mighty blows.

Crashing through doors, walls
and window frames, no hope
but that for daylight in time
for those deafening sounds
to cease their endless chimes.

Though for those poor souls
found out beneath its roar
hailstones of such size
with far more mass than
a stitched cricket ball.

Stole each ones life
no second thought recall
as with every stones fall
each became buried
in their grassy beds
underneath an endless
rocky ice plateau.

One almost pondered
if it would ever stop
this devil’s storm which
spilled for an hour long.

Clear dropping its icy hell
as it clambered far out from
rising woven tangled chains
those rooftop mountainsides.

But soon when all turned over
battered bruised each home
outside just rubble frozen stones
in loss to life we did not know.

4 responses to “A shortened wick

    • Cheers, Aquileana. πŸ™‚ A recalled description the second stanza, from the days of youth when such a storm unloaded its weight upon a shelter and left behind piled fields of fallen ice.

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