In light of recent events,

The Weathering

The Storm rises.
Frowning on
A little girl standing alone.
Half the size of the wheel.
At the Helm.

Like dust against the winds;
Face twisted into
Determined Grimace
At the Helm;

This is the story of her
Life.

Her eyes squint against the wind.
Searching, Searching.
Past the miles of blue on every side
Past the Storm;

This shall be the story of her
Life.

Her golden hair will fly behind,
Begging her to stay too.
The face will set harder
Eyes will continue their search.
At the helm.

She has never failed before.
She won't start now.