The Cold Wind
The cold wind blew
around the empty street, swishing and swaying, none did he meet. Carrying away the trash and the rubble, gone with the wind, taking the trouble. No one would stop him. No one would try. No one wanted to, so the wind went by. D.R., Sixth Grade |
I wrote a lot of poetry when I was younger. A recent storeroom purge reunited me with much of it. This is the oldest poem of which I have a memory writing.