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Outside the winds were gathering a storm.
She tied back her hair and turned over a page.
He on the floor kept counting.
The windows crashed open and the Tempest stepped in,
She gave it a look and returned to her book.
The intruder intrigued was entranced by the words she was reading.
The man on the floor hugged two million and one.
Out in the hall the cops were checking their guns
but no one inside gave them an answer.
She turned the last page but the wind blew it back,
it takes time to read when you’re ringing, spinning like a whipped up top.
She reached out for sleep, the Tempest pulled up the sheet,
kissed her goodnight, then roared out the door.