A storm above,
Rattling the shutters.
The lightning flashes,
And the room flutters.
Upstairs in the dark,
Cowering in my bed.
My parents on a plane,
The neighbor here
instead.
She holds a candle,
A golden circle in the
black.
Tells me not to worry,
My parents will be back.
With the trust of a
child,
I fall unsteadily into
sleep.
Hoping that tomorrow,
Will be better than it
seems.
Waking to bright sun
shine,
I open weary eyes.
Hurrying downstairs,
I love what I find.
Eating breakfast,
Smiles licking across
lips.
I hug my parents,
And find what I missed.
— Alexandra Hehlen
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