a sepia-tone cyclone
rolled over distant, thrashing fields
I went outside in black and white
just to know how the wind would feel.

glass gleamed, light seemed
weak for the time of year
nobody looked as trees shook
and the cyclone spun ever near.

your shining eyes, the stormy skies
boxed in on a colorless screen
roads stretching out just turn back around
and around in the sepia dream.

you called my name, the storm raged
I was still and watched it near