Windy days are my favourite
On those days I feel powerfull, strong
My head is healed more then a little higher
Shoulders back and my walk, that of a models
Windy days are my favourite
I feel as though I have conjured them
People on the streets cover themselves and hold their hair, I let mine run wild
I see the beauty within the storm, and I adore it
YOU ARE READING
My Little Book Of Random's
PoetryThese poems mean something different To every individual Respect them And each other For one's thoughts Count as blessings Or Poison in their food.
