He Brushed
He brushed against her red hair
Then moved on from there
To the girl with the golden curls
While tears flowed upon the ground
Red hair laced between the tears
Soon he tired of the gold
And sought out brown
What a lovely crown
Then boisterously he blew on threw
Now none wears a crown
He is left with nothing to entertain
Only snow and ice remain
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
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