I'd rather not return
my neighbors went to see
the chimney toppled over
the fallen pecan tree
the room where we had supper
collapsed beneath the weight
the storm had smashed it all
my mother's garden gate
the landscape turned asunder
by cruel tornadic wrath
that I could never find
my childhood woodland path
in my enchanted forest
the trees are bleached like chalk
the brush reclaims the ruins
where barefoot I would walk
but still the creek is flowing
adventure all around
another boy is wandering
to see what can be found
I'm so sorry to hear it and let it be so many years ago.You described it in a way to stay there the memory for the generations to come!
Many years after I was a grown man, my childhood home was destroyed by a tornado.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Natural disasters can be very horrifying. You have given an apt picture of a tornado n the childhood connection makes it a more meaningful read.