There's thunder and lightning

shaking my room that was once bright,

now black as pitch

and I'm huddled under the paisley quilt

shivering in fear.

The thunder keeps time to my parent's screams,

the good china crashing against the wall, the cymbals

and his hands slapping her face – the drums.

My usually friendly stuffed animals

leer at me in the flashes of light

and my goldfish rattles in his tank

and even Wonderdog is cowering at my feet

and I wonder if the storm will ever pass.