June 3, 2010Worms and slugs are crawling aroundin the wet dirt.The grass is soaked with rain.The fog is smokylike a little bonfire.The swing seats are dampand the chains are rusty and silent.Clouds are blanketing the whole sky.The crow is gliding high and slowand I can barely see him.Above the world,the stars are lighting up.
3 comments:
um, wow.
Nice! I can see that poem.
Great poem
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