The Wind
Clouds fly by,
Like cars racing in the sky.
Storms roll in,
They bring rain again.
Tree limbs bend and sway,
Causing leaves to dance their own way.
The current in the lake is slow,
By the glistening you catch a direction of its flow.
Smoke and steam from factories roll,
To be yanked away as if paying with their soul.
In the distance an American Flag is waving,
As if to say hi to a country that might need saving.
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