The beauty outside is something I can't contrive,
The feel of the wind holding nothing within,
The feel of the night, when hiding inside,
The feel of the rain when dancing, not pain,
The feel of the snow, while hunting the cold,
The sound of nature, swirling through trees,
whispering sweet nothings all meant for me.
Because it's out there that I get away from you
and stimulate my mind with something besides the boob toob.
A contest entry
- nothing, but a carnival ... (read the rules first) by A Prophet of 3.
4457 points, ended October 30, 2007, 16 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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