We waited for the storm to fall. The clouds gathered till the night sky turned white. The clouds became the canvas upon which the lighting choreographed its tropical movement. The wind played its part by rustling the leaves and disturbing the calm serenity of the water.
We were right back where we started, but only different this time. The storm did not come, only mere droplets of drizzle. Perhaps the storm is still brewing, and will take time before it pours its eternity upon the earth. We wait.
We wait for our chance. Show us only half of it and we will seize it.
Uncle T
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