A tale of a dream that must be told,
A dream of a myself, barely thirteen years old.
A tornado was coming, with no time to spare.
No time to grab anything, no time to despair.
I was at home, alone with my flashlight.
As I settled in my closet on that dark, scary night.
The wind picked up, at a miserable pace.
I could feel the ground trembling, I was ready to brace.
But not ready for what was about to come,
No one would be ready, except the wisest some.
I heard windows crash, and cars crashing,
The yells of helpless people, and items smashing.
When it all stopped, not a moment too soon.
Until it arose again, like the tide by the moon.
This time more violent, more deadly to me,
If only I could see, what was about to be.
My closet door came open, to the outside air,
And the wind was picking up, streaming through my hair.
And something happened, the wind became strong,
And I was taken into the air, like the lyrics of a song.
The wind became faster, objects flying about,
When I realized what was happening and began to scream and shout.
But no one could hear me, or feel my heart race.
Then I was thrown into a window, glass hitting my face.
The glass gave a cut, not very deep,
But it was still enough blood, to give someone the creeps.
And then it again stopped, but this time for good.
No one could see me, and no one ever would.
And then I awoke, from a short nights sleep,
Breathing hard, panting, like a dog chasing sheep.
And I walked to my mirror, and to my surprise,
I had a small wound, between my two eyes.
I reassured myself that it was only a dream,
And no matter how real it may seem,
It was only a dream… or was it?
Created: May 08, 2010Document Media