Lightning crashes and thunder rumbles.
Nature roars and creatures tumble.
In the unbalance of the wind,
Words get swished around and spin.
Others get zapped by the pale king lightning--
--Knighted thunder growls rather frightening.
However, when the storm finally comes to an end,
It leaves a world of beauty and mend,
An imaginative novel that rises to the top,
Like the sun rays giving the landscape a hop.
No reader remembers or knows of the storm,
The one that existed before book's true form.
Some just smile and say that the rainbows are nice,
Or to some the end's great but then give some advice.
Others struggle to push through the storm,
To gather their words and to make them conform.
Everyone gets wet when they write their storm of puddles,
And every time they find a word, the thing goes off and scuttles.