Wind creeps through my hair.
His temperature grows cold every brilliant minute.
He's a monster to the children.
He's a thief for the business people.
He's a threat too for the nature.
So beware,you'll never know when the wind might turn his cold eyes on you.
By Zeel.S
2 comments:
To Zeel your poem is brilliant ilike the way you said every thing about it....................cool
Alyssa...Ria
nice personafercation zeel!!!!!
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