The way it goes. (BY A 12 YEAR OLD)

The wind in your hair,
the wind in your face, the wind in your toes,
the wind up in space.

The wind down below,
or even up higher.
as cold as ice,
or as hot as fire.

When the wind tieds down,
the grass stops moving.
The trees are still,
and grandma starts snoring.

The day comes to night,
The sun turns to moon.
Then I have to wait,
till morning to use a spoon.

Good night my child,

[...] Read more

poem by Braylyn Thomasson
Added by Poetry Lover
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