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McLeod
Poems
Jun 2019
Grass
Thin as paper,
Green as a bush,
Doesnβt talk like a dictator,
Ground like mush.
Swaying in the wind,
Whistling like above,
Staying there as if pinned,
Swaying like a dove.
Crunchy for a bug,
Disgusting for us,
Running like a sparkplug,
Yet makes no fuss.
Reborn as if new,
Rustling as if happy,
A new place, it grew,
Not like a tree, not sappy.
Like a forest,
Where it blows with the air,
Singing a chorus,
Thatβs never there.
A Grass Poem I made for school.
#bruh
#momento
#numero
#dos
Written by
McLeod
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