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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest · #1906056
Se came... She saw... She devoured.... A wind-song dirge.

Southern is another hemisphere.
The sun would Wave goodbye from here,
but for the cloudy October duvet
where Sandy, wanton, has had her way.

Watching from an armchair out on the porch
ponder pre-victims, "What is in store?"
Lights in the night take leave of the breeze.
Trees dance erratic then fall in the streets.

A Cleveland fridge pauses in thought,
"From somewhere close should ice be brought."
Like blankets and pillows in nightmare fight
the city, its' people, flood in fright.

Her tidal onslaught bathed in ardor
taken cowering surrendered seashore.
Menacing waters then perilous peer
at dark and empty windows fear.

Sad losses are in aftermath hung
as the song of Sandy lifts unsung
'pon the shriek of wind and cries of rain
to be forever so sung again.
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