=A story of you=

You were conceived on a dark and stormy night,
like stories of old, full of elemental fury;
Wind and rain, lightning and thunder,
batter and break, reveal and reverberate,
against and beyond the windows of their soul.

You were ever a bright and precocious child,
so much adored, and chastised even more.
Your sword was raging naiveté
and your shield, a favorite blanket.
When you grew up, both were lost.

You became a rebellious youth
but it was merely a phase, a short one too.
So you studied some, played your piano too,
fell in love but it was too good to be true.
And so you learned and changed and grew.

You were what they called a good man,
in every sense, and so you were.
Your family loved you, and you them.
Relationships, career, health and all,
your life was like a fairy tale.

Your death was slow and graceful.
Faces above you meld with your life
flashing past you back in time.
Your final thought betrays you:
It was a dark and stormy night.