Seasons
The ground sparkles bright.
Chilly air, visable breath.
And it is all white.
The smell in the air.
Rain falls and falls out of clouds.
The smell of the rain.
The fierce sun beats down.
Sweat drips from all the people.
Outside on those days.
Everchanging leaves.
Through the tunnel of color.
Cherish the beauty.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Seasons, which
was posted on Aug 25, 2011 by
ANF.
This is a collaborative poem.
About this poem
"Seasons are lovely."
This poem is filed under:
Just for Fun
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