Domestic Frictions Don’t End Well

        The rough waves undulated under the stormy sky and with every crash, a thin streak of foamy froth cast a memory on shore

Splintered rain spewed wooden chips and broken bottle remnants from disputes, too often, taken place outdoors

Precarious drops of crimson proceeded to stain deeper into the grits, washed over with warm salty tears

An ominous howl of smothered silent screams wailed against the chilled wind, from it, a chanted quarrel strung its tune

Trees rustled in despair of the plagued past, their roots shriveled and damaged by constant reiteration of harmful abuse

Coppered sleet tore into mellow rocks and delicate fronds, the only vestige of brutality lay scattered in pieces of soft velvet

Thick clouds filled with a pungent stench of acidic smog floated with treacherous precision, its deceitful movements threatened to burst

Lean branches quivered like thin limbs and broke against the tenacious gale, shrunken seeds, too young for life, tasted death