The Coming Storm

The coming storm, tonight and tomorrow,
Forty or sometimes seventy miles wind blow.
It's calm now, just look out the window,
but something ominous in the air, I know.
Remember Sandy, more than seven years ago?

What a wild gusty day,
when sky's grey, nerves fray, 
and even the cat stops to play.

The TV crashes,
electricity goes dark after ominous flashes.
Untied trash can runs and clashes.

Big trees fall down, 
branches and leaves scattered on the ground.
Roads are blocked all over the town.

Afterwards, the worst comes. 
No heat, no internet, no batteries,
cell phones used as flashlights.

"But it won't be so bad this time around.
Only to the shoreline will the tropical storm pound.
We are fifteen miles inland, safety abound."

My friend says, her voice tender and blend.
I agree. I used to be impertinent, but now I mend. 
No natural storm, no man made storm, let our tepid happiness never end.  

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