The Wind

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  • Nature

    The Wind

    I hear the wind whispering in the trees
    I cheer when it comes twisting in a breeze
    It makes a quiet and lonely sound
    No one knows where the wind is bound
    It blows and blows all across this land
    And when it gets rough its hard to stand
    Sometimes its bitter wet and cold
    But id rather have it than tons of gold
    It feels so good on a hot summer day
    It brings out something that makes me play
    wecould notlive without
    the wind I thank the Lord for this gift He sends
    He sent it because He really cares
    He sent it to help clean our polluted air
    I feel it as it gently blows
    I love the wind the Good Lord knows

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    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

    denraybou’s Poems (6)

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