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The trees are shaking in their boots

The dust knows it has to be swept away

the leaves are dropping effortlessly

The roofs of our houses are struggling to stay rooted, and from far a way you can hear them wailing

Little children grip their mothers’ skirts

Little boys sit wailing loudly, the storm imminent

Him, he has no one to worry about him, so crying would be futile

A little boy of two, he sits abandoned in a courtyard, forgotten, helpless

His little feet cannot carry him fast enough, or far enough to escape the storm

He’s terrified, and his eyes are full, his voice is chocking in his throat

Because he sees no one, knows no one, and his world is turning upside down

Nature cannot be tamed, save by her maker

Somehow the little boy knows that, and he will not try, so he sits on his butt

And bravely stares the storm in the face, no longer afraid

His fate resigned, his fate sealed……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

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