The Storm

March 10, 2008
By Missy Bemis, Clarkston, MI

The thunder rolled.
The lightening crashed.
I stood at the door of my bedroom.
It had been a bleary night.

Papa had come home.
The wind blasted through the door.
The rain hammered on our tin roof as
Mama had no smile to show him.

The stench of Jim and Jack,
poured out of his clothing.
My father kept his promises such as Judas;
just like a storm he was gone.

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