Memories fade, scars heal
Leaving behind their turmultus reminders
Of things less than beautiful
Sitting in silence, as the autumn wind blows
Listlessly through the tree tops
Words spill forth onto this page.
A storm is on the horizon.
The black bulbous clouds
Billowing in from their journeys across the plains
A cleansing, new beginning is riding
Those menacing clouds
Brought forth only through this
Purging violence, and destruction.
The sky glows orange in anticipation.