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Mar 19
The wind sneaks in through my window sill
and I can hear the rhythm of the rain.

A shy draft looms like a visitor
misplaced it roams my way.

Outside I hear the thunder howl
as windswept trees whisper my name,
so I close my eyes to the chill of the moon
pushing blue hues through my glass pane.
Small brevity I wrote the other night, storm season has  now arrived
Written by
Bethany  25/F
     Ledge, SUDHANSHU KUMAR and Amber Silas
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