Rumbling, the earth trembling;

melding my feet to it,

molten heat;

All the world’s passion

In one room, in one body,

Still shaaaakiiiing;

Morphing one previously childlike mind.

That which liquefies metal

Isn’t hot,

it’s beyond thermal capacity-

St. Helen’s simply sneezed;

During puberty.

There were warnings,

Don’t act so blinded by ash,

Littering just within reach of the magma cone,

Ash like grey snow flakes

if not ash it would be serene….quiet,

A first snowfall.   But hard to breathe.

A once creamy epidermis,

Mottling the surrounds,

Emotions popping up, visibly on the surface

Panicked, parents scramble,

….. Should we connect the dots or make them go away?

Molten lava, fall out, run, don’t gather;

just run.

Childhood was yesterday.

The eruption of adulthood

Is supposed to clear away

Everything in its path?