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Gentle winds hit my skin,
As I lay on the ground.
Secrets floating in the breeze,
Never to be found.
The grass is swaying,
Caressing your every being,
As the trees whisper the truth.
The land beholds the Pot O' gold,
Only to be found by the youth.





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crubs3 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jul. 23, 2010 at 12:24 am
This is great!! i love it!! if you could please rate and comment on my work that wuld be awesome!!! especially to anonymous!!! thanks and ur really good!!!
 
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