Imminent

I feel it coming.

Like the lapping edges 

of the ocean 

rising

before the tidal waves

hit.

Like the whistling breeze 

through my wind chimes

quickening

before the stormy gusts

blow.

Like the welling tears 

in her eyes

building

before the heavy sobs

cry.

Like the rising rollercoaster

in the sky

climbing

before its long train

drops.

It is building.

Becoming.

Gaining momentum.

I feel it.

It is coming,

forming,

soon to be

the poem.