It thundered like a voice in whispers,
Carrying with it the fragments of fear.
An abode, at the center of this cyclone
A situation precedented, yet unknown.

A wave of terror crashed on the house,
In heavy rains it's future doused.
Mantelpiece of happiness, rolling on the ground,
The home rumbled, lest it does not see them around.

The cyclone sang the lover's refrain,
A home then shattered like porcelain.
It stands there tall, yet battered,
Many walk by, oblivious to the love it once sheltered.

© Meya Ashta