I saw the clouds encroaching towards
The sky they might never conquerhalf-lit by the grace of the sunOthers mundane, dark and dull.(As they must be)In them the winds went bustling apartFrom heavens to hellsand unknown afars...The sun seem to wave the byeAnd moon desperate, to say "Hi!'The canvas brush go smothly afloaton the clouds painted by artist's woeof tremor that had shook us all ;when tornado hit humanityon that morning Dusk.
I remember It as "just a memory".