Along with the stormy breeze,
That swept away the land's, ease,
Dragging down the giant trees,
In my castle, I only sneezed.
Looking through the window glass,
That stood among the attic walls,
The wind made the surrounding dance,
While she crawled to lie on the grass.
Trying hard to crawl off an iron box,
She begged for help from all the rocks,
Watching the people turn away and pass,
Until that soul so soft, carried her on to the grass.
Voices ranging from the floor below,
Grumbling about the dirt in the meadow,
Maybe because, about her they didn't know,
Or maybe there was no interest to show.
-Debra R. N. Ludwick-
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