The Flood

Rain falls,
steady on the tin roof,
and rolls down, down, the side
of this old house.

Thunder rolls,
sending critters deep into
the woods, seeking safety
and a place to stay dry.

Water flows,
with no place to call home,
causing destruction and
devastation to happen quickly

The river recedes,
silent and alone,
and the flood is forgotten
like it never came at all.

Kassie Hill

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Filed under Fall 2013, Poetry

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