Twas the night before Charley
the weather was dead,
He was only a 2 when we climbed into bed.
The plywood was nailed to the windows with care.
With hopes it was strong enough to hold back the air.
The next day was quiet,
Just peaceful and calm,
not even a breeze to flutter a palm.
When out of the south there arose such a roar,
It was Charley's birthday and he just turned 4.
We were all watching now,
as he churned up the coast;
hoping our county would not be the host.
Then suddenly turning,twenty minutes it's said,
was the difference in time that we would have been dead.
He went after charlotte,abundant with rage,the worst storm in years for the history page.
Punta Gorda,Arcadia,were both laid to waste,then on to Orlando in Mickeys Face.
The carnage,destruction,and lives pulled apart,
will pull back together to make a new start.
But those who lost loved ones and the price they paid will never forget that thirteenth day.
God bless all in Florida.......