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Scarlet O'Hurricane, My Sweet Tornado
By George M. Forrester
Copyright 2000 George M. Forrester
About the writer's fiery red-haired 25-year old daughter.
(From email to Maria)
I have started on the poem to you that you requested. It is very half-baked so do not hold it against me: Voila: I heard on the radio that a strong typhoon is heading to the northeast of us. That prompted me to start the poem. Voila:
Scarlet O'Hurricane, My Sweet Tornado
Hurry Hurricane
I have sown you, the whirlwind, with my wild seeds fiercely
Crossing two continents before a quarter of a century
I never thought I would reap a tornado
that would end up as an explosive torpedo,
fizzling out as a meal of wine and rare tourne-dos
causing my premature aging and belated childhood
when my precious Hungarian Tornado went on a shopping spree
in the Pampas of Australia, twenty-four hours away.
Hurry Hurricane
Blow back into town
so we can sway, and sway, and sway.
Love Dad