The tornado begins as a whisper,
As a slight wind,
And grows exponentially until the slight becomes a gust,
And the gust becomes a howl,
And the howl becomes a scream.
The scream is deafening
And it makes the house feel rickety,
It makes the house quake and feel unstable
Beneath your own two feet.
The shakiness
Makes you feel uncertain,
Feel apprehensive,
Feel anxious and nervous and worried and scared.
You soon realise though
That the house isn't what is shaking,
You are.
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YOU ARE READING
breathe
PoetryA collection of short poems ~ ♡ ~ the words of a weary, beaten soul who wishes to share her poems with the world
