Dear Diary:
Our bungalow, 223
On the Atlantic oceanside
Beloved home of family
for generations, now has died.Just scraps of wood, all smashed and torn
Swept by wind and ocean roar
Merciless to all who mourn
Oblivious of family loreRuthless, fearless, spurred by wrath
Winds and waves so mindless of
the homes and memories in her path
the land and sand so many loveOur bungalow, Our sacred space -
I long to spit in Sandy's face.
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