Her-icane

“If people were rain I was a drizzle and she was a hurricane.”  
– John Green, Looking for Alaska 

The hurricane was coming.
 No more wondering, no more warning.

 

Grabbing the tools to put up the ply, 
I began to work, an eye on the sky

 

Nail after nail, I secured what was mine, 
my loose ends are bound with white twine

 

Wind tugs my sweaty hair now, 
as horizontal drops begin to pound

 

Forgetting one thing in all the hurry, 
the open front door in rain now blurry

 

Rampaging through my unprotected gate, 
the raging storm expresses all of it’s hate

 

It’s all over with damage everywhere, 
all of my belongings strewn around there

 

I could have prevented this wind that blew, 
had I stopped myself from loving you

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