Storm

The wind blows like a heavy gale,
And its gusts roll and fill the sale,
But on this stormy sea of fate,
We must find time to love, not hate.

The torrent shakes a mighty temblor,
And the rain is chill, like mid-December.
The waves they crest and fall to bow
And tear asunder our ship's prow.

The sun, it's face, nowhere to be found
In the sky or below the ground.
The clouds they roll and roil free,
And thunder claps most ominously.

But the storm is not a thing of end,
It can be a beginning, a sign to mend.
When the clouds have passed, the sun shines down, And helps to heal the sadly frown.