Bit belated, considering how freakin' cold it is already. But, here it is.
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Summer’s gone,
and the birds’ sweet calls
have been replaced
with the chirping of rain on
a rusted tin roof,
and the sloshing sound of
muddy rubber rainboots
hitting the puddles on my way to school.
And how much sweeter those sounds are.
First poem with formatting in it. Not sure about the last line, nor the word "hitting" in the second to last line. Anything thoughts?
Thanks for reading!
