The Morning Dusk of memories

I saw the clouds encroaching towards

The sky they might never conquer

half-lit by the grace of the sun

Others mundane, dark and dull.

(As they must be)

In them the winds went bustling apart

From heavens to hells

and unknown afars...

The sun seem to wave the bye

And moon desperate, to say "Hi!'

The canvas brush go smothly afloat

on the clouds painted by artist's woe

of tremor that had shook us all ; 

when tornado hit humanity

on that morning Dusk.

I remember It as "just a memory".