Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Your Paper

The leaves tumble down the path.
Whoosh, whoosh, they whisper.

The raindrops drip from the puffy clouds.
Drip, drip, they murmur.

The acorns fall from water-laden trees.
Plick, plock, they giggle.

The paper crumples as your fist tightens around it.
Crinkle, crackle, it groans.

The paper bounces down the path.
Tchak, tchak,
Now you're free.

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