The wind is a continuous howl rolling around,
In the breezy night.
It is one thousand men,
Stomping their elephant feet.
The wind is rugby players,
Side stepping their opponents.
The wind whips leaves,
around like a piece in a game.
The wind makes trees nervous,
Shaking leaves.
It's the clouds blowing,
A vicious icy cold breath.
It is a bull showing everything,
Out of its path.
By Josh R
No comments:
Post a Comment