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Monument to a Monument to a Whirlwind
February 28, 2012
The world’s wealth swept up,
While screams and trumpets don’t let up,
A visual cacophony of sound,
As the vortex spins round and round.
Scarlet horses hidden in turmoil,
The grey storm above comes to a boil.
Shreds of chaos erupt from outstretched hands,
Plastered on walls across the land.
Magenta time melts away;
The bricks of walls are led astray.
Some hide behind stumps before they’re set adrift.
But in the end, the dead forest is all that’s left.
© Lauren M., Scotch Plains, NJ
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Oh yeah, guess what? I made rhymes! :D