Rolling winds,
And houses put asunder,
With it sounding like,
A train and thunder,
The hands of Hell,
Going that way and this,
Hoping your house,
Is the one it will miss.
Leaving behind,
A mess in it's wake,
It travels along,
Like a long winding snake.
The horror and destruction,
With many lives gone too,
Is all that is left,
When the sun returns and the sky is blue.
Lesli Bohanan
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