The Moor

'Twas rain and wind and thunderstorms
That thrashed upon the moor,
The grass grew wild and thick with thorns
While farmers hid indoors.
Inside a friendly fire burned,
The children huddled close,
But o'er the moor a dark sky churned
And all of hell broke loose.

The rain crashed down for weeks and weeks
The wind ne'er ceased its howl,
The sky attacked the mountain peaks;
Clouds formed her dreadful scowl.

A girl sat crumpled on the floor;
And dreamed of her once peaceful moor.