Scampering of tiny
Little feet, ringing through the
Getting closer with every
Quickly, steadily closing the distance between.
A child's fingers grip you gently,
Shaking with every breath.
Nonexistent sirens blare in the
Closed, listening ears.
Frigid, terrified eyes burn the path
Of your vision
Observing anxious, antsy movements
The child's weeping echoes, bouncing
Off the surrounding walls
"Am I going to die?"
As salty, slick droplets
Extend the length of her cheek, running
As a waterfall would into a lake,
Comfort flows from the mouths
Of loved ones.
Sitting, where the basement builds
Its walls around them,
They feel safe.
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