and post notes and photos about your poem like Betty Harp Butler.
Whisper, whisper goes the wind,
Ruffling though my leaves.
I will not let him blow me down,
I’ll proudly bend with the breeze!
Drip, drip, goes the rain,
As it falls right through my branches!
I quietly let it slide right down my trunk,
And run into the ditches.
Copyright © Betty Harp Butler | Year Posted 2016
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