A Lightning strike!
¶ 1
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I wander. Lonely. As a cloud, I fret
that my impending dissipation
will prevent my participation
in the game we love so much –
Rainball.
¶ 2
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We line up in cloud formation,
warm front versus cold front,
one decked out in fluffy white
the other
big ‘n black ‘n fit to burst
so who will triumph first
in this game of Reignball?
¶ 3
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We hover,
over stadia, over pitches green and lush
and the final whistle nears
with one side set to flush!
¶ 4
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As the pressure rises
and the atmosphere turns stormy –
my money is on the match being decided
by a meteorological strike!
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