the lights go out.
you find a flashlight
in the hall
closet and shine it on
the room.
others are there.
they've come in from
the rain,
wind blown and with
stories
to tell.
the water rises, the roof
shakes.
we huddle
onto the floor and light
candles.
we remember
other times like these
when we were young.
nothing changes,
nothing remains the same.
the storms
keep coming.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment