Paper-soft against the storm’s fierce din.
Can it shield when the skies break apart,
Or hold the weight of a weary heart?
Yet, in despair, you’ll clutch its frame,
A twig, a thread, a fleeting flame.
When all is lost, even the frail will do,
A lifeline to grasp, to see you through.
But why not build while skies are clear,
A shelter strong, for those held dear?
So when storms rage, as storms will rise,
There’s safety beneath your steady skies.
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