Wind
On the valley, she swings her beautiful hip
In the thicket, trees stretch necks from deep
The ground, she leaves necked as she passes-by
To the soil, any friend has to say goodbye
Daily she visits, and the trees have to bow
Strong are trees, in the highland, she wonders how
Valley stroll, she crosses the necked soil
As she rolls, wonders she why people no toil
Necessary it was, causing soil and friends much pain
No soil and trees, what has she now gain
Society crying, she finally takes her lead
No farm, nothing people can weed
Hunger strike, children always cry
Their mouth, for long, remain dry
Wind
© Copyright: Светлана Альтер, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120101803980
Свидетельство о публикации №120101803980
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