-where once were four walls, a roof

wrapped in layers of blanket

-beside the water slide down which she laughed

into poolside memories -

crumbled scrap

-and pulls one blanket over her head

to protect her hair from falling flakes of filth

a feeling that comforted her in bed

while the sound machine played waves

-as drops hit her nose

a feeling fine in the confines of her shower

where the drizzle soothed her

-where the innocence of her sound machine

has been washed away

-where her bed lies miles in the distance

and where the shards of her shower door

are scattered

like the individual members of every family around her

-in wreckage

while the nearby crashing of the waves shake her

-in hiding

quivering in fear

-while the five men in uniform

stand clueless

wondering if there are any nearby survivors

-as the sound of their summon

induces a smile

as she glances in the opposite direction

at the car driven to the beach a year back

when the harmony of the seagulls' call and waves' crash

comforted her

-as a personal storm commences

as every tear she cries represents every mile in the distance

her home truly lies

realizing she is in foreign territory

realizing the board on which she stands is not the stoop of her porch

-realizing the sound of the waves

no longer comfort her