Aug 23, 2012

Louis's poem

The chilly air sweeps past me like a ball room dress
I shudder as the wind whistle its hoarse song
The morning breeze coils and recoils its self
My shoes sink into the dewy grass
The cold air burns my lungs as I breath
The birds call their spring song

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Location:Camp Hill Rd,Hawea Flat,New Zealand

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