April 3, 1956

Too hot for this time of year
The air is far too thick
Marsh of premonition sends
Our eyes up past the sticks

Painted unfamiliar shades
The clouds with ill-willed smiles
Omen's just a word 'til now
Imaginations run wild

All on edge and all are tense
A roar across the waves
Coming close every tick
Safe while they are motionless

Wrapped in concrete floors and walls
All hid under the stairs
The sound of skies that come alive
Are mixed with muttered prayers

Turn the locks to hide away
The truth that all avoid
And wonder if the dodo ever
Knew he'd be destroyed

All afraid and all distressed
A roar outside the door
Some are still outside the stairs
Close your eyes and go somewhere safe

Seventeen didn't make it to the stairs

They died that day