January is the month in which she is sent
Of all the months it is the first of the year
And of all the possible things to say to her
No one has ever dared cross her judgement
Now, it is time for her to fly with her own wings
All alone out there in the wilderness she sings
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Poèmes
PoetryRandom poems in different languages. I write them like that, either for school, or because it came like that.
