Six rusty lamps I lit
in the evening
had all but
burnt out,

and from the other room
I heard you shout,
"the ceilings'
beginning to leak."

Mud on the tiles,
your footsteps
stomped and squeaked.
We were all in disbelief.
We had a feeling we'd
be there for a while,
so we found a
board game to
keep us all sane.

I've had my lows
and I've been pretty high,
picture frames are windows
to better times.
Feels good when the wind blows
over the street signs.

We felt it dying down,
I found a railing in the yard,
discarded by whatever tore
through the streets,
roaring ahead of us.

Crying, you held a bird,
failing to fly from your arms.
You knew she wouldn't
last another day.
The storm had finally passed.