The storm dances to its own music.
The sky is the dancefloor.
You stare into the sky and yet you could not spot where the disco ball is.
Except the numerous flashlights coming from the limitless dancefloor.
That turns the orange dark brown sky into grey, almost white.
Under your blanket, is cold and hard.
When's the next flash you wonder.
Cars go swoosh as rain drops fall hard onto your window panes.
Why do trees dance to the 'flashy' music?
Will you live to see the sunrise tomorrow?
Indeed, that's the almighty groove of nature.
But when the door finally opens with a sigh,
you know your heart is still warm.
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