Here is the poem I wrote for one of my lessons before I found out that my grandpa has (maybe) two days to live, and a friend I used to work with has died of liver cancer at the age of 25:

Furious

The dark clouds came down.
A warning to us that nature was furious.
The thunder stomped.
The rain pounded.
And my twisted umbrella flew away.

I think, when you grow up, the words melt into the "normalness" of the day...

***That's all I can manage for tonight***