Hustle and bustle along the narrow streets.
We move like ants
Scurrying out of our nest
Looking for food
Sandy is coming...
She's far away
But we can still feel the push of her hands
As the trees bend at her mercy
And we all board up our windows together.
Sandy is approaching...
Rain hammers against our rooftops
The trees cry out as they are torn apart
Limb by limb.
The eery song that she sings is all that can be heard
Throughout our land
As she slams her fist against our walls.
Sandy is here...
She snaps power lines like a thin piece of thread.
And telephone signals are distorded.
Families huddle together at the dinner table.
Under the dim light of the kerosene lamps
As they listen to the radio,
The only thing that connects them to the outside world
In which she rules.
The rain ceases and the wind dies down
Sandy is departing...
But all that she leaves in her wake is destruction.
Shingles blown from rooftops.
Pieces of land and street washed out the sea
never to be see again.
Cars drown in an ocean of her angry tears.
Sandy has forgotten us now..
But the community still remembers her
As they try to rebuild all that has been lost.
© Copyright 2016 OxannaRose. All rights reserved.
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