Monday, 8 July 2013


The leaves turn like  a bride  dancing.
The sun  reflects on water as if it's a mirror.
The branches twist like an old lady's fingers. 
The birds cheep, drowning  out gentle  sounds. 
The acorns crackle under your feet 
The grass sprouts through the mud .
The mud squishes down like a trampoline under your weight .
The flowers are drooping and glum. 
By Rosa

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