Havoc

Havoc

In the quiet lane of morning light,
A sudden gust awakens fright—
Leaves whirl in frantic, dancing spree,
As wind turns calm to wild decree.

The market square erupts in sound,
Stalls overturn, their wares unbound,
Children’s laughter turned to cries,
While pigeons scatter, startled, rise.

Across the river, bridges groan,
Cars collide in metal‑toned moan,
Sirens wail a mournful tune,
Underneath a bruised, bruised moon.

Yet havoc bears a strange repair,
For after chaos comes fresh air—
Ashes settle, streets are swept,
New hopes emerge where tumult slept.