CAMELOT FANTASIES

POETRY COMES TO LIGHT

How I luv the thunder, coming my way.
Smelling, ov the soft burn.
The lighting, in the array.
I luv it when it rains, hitting upon the panes.
I need, the window ov the night.
Shining on me, oh so bright.
So my poetry, will come to light.
With dark clouds, over my head.
Rain falls, as if to dread.
To me, wonderful instead.
Like a beautiful prose, that I have read.
Tears ov the proud, to souls being fed.
Dark clouds ov change, visual life's thread.
Darkest the souls, visions in my head.
Reapers mold, never to be bled.
Walking to hold, shadows of the night.
Guided by the beams, ov the moonlight.
Thoughts ov romance, begins their show.
With my prose, coming to light, thru the dark I tread.