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The Raging Storm

Winds howled, while rain drummed on the roof, so loud,
The thin walls squeaked, as heard from shack within,
The flimsy roof, might as well be a shroud,
Of stick and grass, that now has spread so thin.

A gust, so strong, decreed the shack must lean,
While flying leaves and twigs, came speeding by;
Tomorrow's trash, the storm will leave to clean,
Just then a gust, has kissed the roof goodbye.

A calm ensued, but soon, winds howled anew,
No roof waits now, to delight the rain,
Debris, that back to where it came, all flew,
The shack that leaned, is now upright again.

And yet, more storms deep in the heart, still rage
With wayward winds that blow, and rain that strums,
Might sway the soul astray, the coward's wage,
But now a song of hope, within it hums.

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