Cyclone Yassy
My sister the cyclone………...
She streaks through the house
a path of debris wherever she goes.
When she walks past
she leaves a breeze that ruffles the paper she has just drawn on.
I fly into the beanbag when she shoves past me
a whirlwind of fists and feet.
She is too big for our house.
Tearing the pillows up,
hurling the cat around.
Whenever anyone comes to our house
it’s really hard to clean up because she keeps destroying things.
We are scared for surprise visitors because
they might get shocked and run away.
It does not matter what time, which place;
my sister is always messy like a cyclone.
This is my portrait poem. I had to include at least one simile and a metaphor.
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