On the ground winds blowing like rage it's self was mad.

Whispers catch fire through the wind there attired.

Window seals creaking open as the wind goes under.

TVs all on in each room mom says every one out side to the shelter.

No shoe's no worries just run like hell's coming.

Out side now the pale white-gray sky


People said it would come as if it was a prophecy.

Look as you fall in the mud pudding.

Every one gone you hear voices more and more but up above a hawk flys.

Trees start getting de-rooted and blown across the yard.

As your you're thinking of your last post card.

Then you sink your hands into the dirt and grab on to sturdy roots.

Hoping the sucker want throw you from its strong grounded-ness.

As more debris flown across the yard your still held to the root of a mighty huge oak.

Even its purpose was not strong enough and it starts the de-rooting process.

Clouds now Hurd, closer too your area and a car came bearing down the lane.

You look not feeling any shame for the root played an epic game of stay protect me and don't lose.

You now get in she hit a tree branch and it cut of her head, dread was hovering above the car.

You gently place her mournful full remains to the pavement then leave in a flash step of hurry.

The winds scaring the paint with pine needles hitting it's out line.