There is a FURIOUS storm knocking at my door.
The wind is HOWLING LOUDER than the wolves.
Trees trying VERY hard to fight against the strong winds and at least, kneel on their knees.
Everything unsecured is swirling around....
There is a sense of fear everywhere.
I can hear glasses SHATTER....
Things falling and slamming to the ground.
I suddenly start shivering or is it shaking.
Is it the ground below me that's moving
or me, who is trembling with fear????
It's the next day.
Everything has calmed down or so it looks.
Indeed... The city IS silent.
It has plunged into darkness.... I can no longer hear the taps go sushhh or the trees swish.
Vizag has become an eerie land, as if it has been cursed,
with all its leaves attracted by gravity and roots gazing at the sky.
The once lush green roads, can no longer be recognized.
All the modern facades made of glass, have been destroyed.
Even my friend, the phone, has left me.
Instead of walking on a cemented road, I walk on a carpet of glass, leaves and branches.
All this aside, what worries me is the 1000's of trees we have lost.
Will I ever again feel the refreshing breeze the trees exhale, when I open my window?
Will the FUTURE, have oxygen in the air or will it be in bottles to breathe????
*This poem is about the cyclone in my city and the cyclone was just how I described in this poem.
The answer to the question in the third para is: it was the bed that was shaking because of the strong winds*
