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Hurricane Season

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Tempest-tossed and whirlwind-worn
Across the sea my father lies
Thunder-struck and lightning-born
Sunlight sleeping in his eyes

I am lost: my father waits
Autumn-drunk across the sea.
Rain, so ravished, fast abates;
Tempest-tossed, he waits for me.

His arms will hold me soon, I know
(Sons still waiting, ships still lost)
When I have nowhere else to go
So rain-ravished, tempest-tossed.



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Rynne This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 24, 2012 at 7:50 pm
The way the words flow together is perfect, I love your word selection and the story this poem tells. Great job, it's one of my favorites I've read so far
 
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