My daughters face against

one side of the window,

The harsh hurricane to the other side

Shes too young, only a child

to even comprehend

why the streets, poles, and trees

swing around in complete pandemonium

Calculated, an almost mechanical type of motion—

But the mist and fog

Filling the night sky, before he can satiate his curiosity

Must be the cause of this storm. Each

boom of thunder

Brings us one step closer to the end

But of course he will draw this in his book

Because he is only a child

And I  am an adult