The feelings begin to warm.
The son has left without warning.
The night stretches out in a black blanket of unknowns.

The feelings heat up.
The hair on the back of necks bristles.
The midnight hour has come and gone like a missile.

The feelings are boiling.
The oceans are churning.
The ships have all set sail straight into the eye of the storm.

The feelings simmer.
The son has returned.
A new day is breaking.

All feeling has burned.