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.