Creating The Storm


Mess with the trees and you raise a storm

Tall, dark, swirling

One whoosh and push you to the ground

Leaves blow, the widows woe

The death comes creeping through the window

No matter the age, the storms will rage

Knocking at your door, knowing what you hold

Carry in your arms, your precious life

Death will come for all, make sure you know when its your call.

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