Strong Wind

It would bear no fruits, but

always green, be it summer or winter.

The wind would bend the branches, carrying all dear memories back to me.

I still remember that Cold December winter night,

the strong wind blew it down.

The bird nests caught fire, and

fledglings fell half-roasted to the ground.

Near my neighborhood, a giant twelve feet Old

tree fell on an Old Couples bedroom.

The stiff trunk and curled branches

rested between the cracks.

The ceiling fell to the floor, the window glass shattered to bits,

that forced the Couples out.

Dark gray columns of smoke uncoiled from the house,

As Red fire truck with screaming sirens rushed towards the scene.

My ears picked up a strange wind sound outdoor,

As gusts pushed harder against the outer walls of my bedroom.

The hardwood Floor, the Bed, and the side lamp slightly shook inside.

This cold March evening, as I stare out the foggy glass window, to the winter sky, to the swaying Pine trees, listening to strong winds— vivid unpleasant memories linger inside.