XVI - The Tower

She came back to a still silence. The wrong kind of quiet. The way back was hard, All the street signs were gone, Landmarks now strangers, Skeletons of trees, Twisted and mangled, Not a leaf in sight. Her home, The one she spent the summer painting in yellow. Now in splinters. Her book collection, Her comfy bed, Gone. She passed her job on the way home, Closed permanently. What...is she going to do now? But...she's still here, still alive. She found a stack of plates, sitting neatly, in her cupboard, a block away, mocking her. It missed a spot. She laughed, cackled, like a maniac. Laughed until her ribs ached, Until the ache turned to tears, Then to screams. She fell to her knees, distraught. Her dog pressed his cold nose to her side, Then laid his head in her lap, Tail wagging, Trying to reassure her. Trying to remind her, that it didn’t take everything. The storm didn't strike where it was fair, It just came and left, Didn't care what broke. It hadn't broke her though, She stood, Not proud, Not brave, Just...still here. And she began to rebuild.