My Poetry. A World of Survival.
The wind whistles through the treeslike an orchestra tuning instruments.The sound grows louder by the minute,rising to a deafening roar.Bird nests survive the onslaught,nestled tightly on...
The wind whistles through the treeslike an orchestra tuning instruments.The sound grows louder by the minute,rising to a deafening roar.Bird nests survive the onslaught,nestled tightly on...