Sunday, 10 May 2015

Rhyming Autumn Poem

First day back at school, the air is crisp

In other words you could call it brisk

Marching feet are scattered across the ground in pairs of twos  

Rusty crippled leaves filter from trees then get scuffed by people's shoes.

Hazy rain faintly drops - you can't hear a sound.

I bet if you were there you wouldn't hear a pound

First day back at school, the air is crisp

But there is a hint that summer’s still here

Like sometimes the air is not brisk.

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