Out of that hall in that stormy prelude.
Came a vast man cover in Jewels.
Holding a cane, likeness of shrewd.
Standing on a hill in front of the school.
He grabs that great cane with both knuckles;
then he proceeds to strike doubles,
Each strike to the ground causes a huge shock.
The sound causes all the land to caulk.
All of the folk move from their nest.
They all gather in front of that new Doc.
And he spoke with grand vigor and mirth to all of his guests,

“Come gather for a storm of magnitude,
In the halls where workers pile their tools.
We will cook a glorious stewed,
As we watch the storm frenzy from our stools.
Will light an inferno and snuggles,
each lighting raid, there be guggles.
While will tell stories and become a flock.
Do not disregard to bring your smock,
Never know when Storm comes to rests.
It will be an event for all the block.
So, the terrific storm is coming near, gather my guests. “

As we watch the storm there is a grand mood,
The night is great, and our eyes are pools,
And the hall’s full of stacks of food.
As the storm rage, appears a group of fools,
The jesters are performing juggles.
The raging storm took our struggles.
Then the storytellers begin to talk,
and all we could manage is to gawk.
Oh, this stunning night is the best.
Sadly, our host lift his great cane and knock.
He shouts, “The storm is over and it’s time to leave my guests”

We left that great hall; felt that disquietude.
For no stormy night could be as cools.
It’s a saddening and dull mood.
It’s sunny outside but we walk as ghouls.
 For the storm is gone thus we struggles.
We recall all of our troubles,
But we are of a strong and sturdy stalk,
For no great storm can sojourn our walk.
All folk here is jammed with grand zest,
To go on to see the end of the clock.
That cane hit soil, one last time by our host to farewell his guests.

Our homes are where this tale comes to conclude.
For Storm is gone but we will weave spools,
For all that snoop with their ears glued.
For those folks who can’t stop the endless drools.
For one’s that takes magic by smuggles.
For all of us lowly muggles,
Let’s meet in a tale told with winged-hawk.
For those who hear, magically rock.
For we are the ones that are test,
By the storm and thus is forever lock,
In that hall, with that man, with that cane, for we are his guests!

A Storm Doc came from an epilogue hall, cover in a smock.
His skin is a dark brown and he is holding a cane that thwack.
Under his smock, he had a jewel cover vest.
Every step he takes causes a shock.
For he is looking for his guests.

By M.I.D