The Tyrant.

By Erin Hart

The tyrant swells

The trees feel hopeless

We feel like ants

Whisper the trees

The lightning strikes the thunder roars

Swirling round the trees the wind goes

The trees are no longer whispering

But bending obeying their master

Then comes the rain pelting

Feeling like bullets as it hits the soggy ground

Little

Animals dare not move waiting waiting

Till the tyrant dies down

Now the rain is softer

The thunder stormed off

The lighting had enough.

By Erin Hart.