Young Writers Society

16./

Beneath the cloudless sky, where heat unfurls,
the world rests in a hazy slumber,
crickets' hum weaves through the stillness,
and the sweltering tarmac burns underfoot.

Give me a thunderstorm, I plead,
a wild tempest to break this tranquillity,
to shatter the glassy surface of the pond,
and send ripples through the thickness of the air.

The butterflies, delicate as whispers,
flutter in the drowsiness seeking solace,
while the sunflowers, heads bowed in reverence,
sway gently, lost in a dream.

But oh, how I long for the electric charge,
the rumble of thunder, the torrential rain,
to wash away the languor, to awaken the earth,
and break through the monotony.

So let the lightning dance, let the clouds collide,
a moment of chaos, of release,
For in the heart of this peaceful season,
I ache for the wildness of a thunderstorm.