There are only a few leaves left on the trees;
the rest of them are bare.
The sun is bright,
But there isn't much warmth.
The grass turns brown,
And snow falls slowly.
The kids disappear in their houses,
For fear of the sickly season.
The wind blows fiercely,
and the cold get colder.
The clouds roll past;
Block the path of the sun.
It's a gloomy day,
but everything's relaxed.
The colors have dimmed,
In time for the Christmas season.
VOUS LISEZ
Seashell in The Sand
PoésieThis is a collection of poetry about my life. The things I go through and the things I witness. Some are happy, some are sad, and some won't make any sense. Sometimes life doesn't either.
