The sun shines down brightly on me
The heat is unbearable can't you see?
No rain or wind can be predicted
Lighting a fire or even having a barbeque is restricted
When will this sweltering heat end?
The sticky melted icey poles drip down my arm
As the ant's crowd around like its a farm
Then the cool change comes again
And then the wind blows and it starts to rain
YOU ARE READING
The Trashy Poetry That I Feel Like Writing
PoetryI am bored I feel like writing poetry I will add a part when I feel like it
