Dust Blown Around In Gust and Thrust
into side must thrust
wind would come up with a gust
did survive from dust
we knew they were trans
which had been part of their plans
either Fred's or Fran's
we love our mother
is perfect like no other
even another
fire seemed to spread
trees burned up than were dead
dreamed of when in bed
to God we will pray
tornado not come our way
away from us stay
Carolina country
with an iron foundry
along the boundary
Need to have a poetry group at
St. James Episcopal Church.
Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2022
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