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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#161841voted by our readers
By Sarah Price GOLD
New City, New York
The Storm comes, late at night, Or maybe early morning, With roaring thunder, and pounding rain, And dark skies. I roll over, sleeplessly, The wind is howling loudly, And b...
New City, New York
The Storm comes, late at night, Or maybe early morning, With roaring thunder, and pounding rain, And dark skies. I roll over, sleeplessly, The wind is howling loudly, And b...