Who Is It?
Theres a knock at the door
It's sad there so poor
The cold runs through the holes
Underneath the cloth
Long sleeves short sleeves
Still dissovel slowly
They stand there all alone
Wating calmly in the cold
Searching and looking
But saw nothing but falling snow
A knock at the door
This time we left it close
Copyright © Luis Salinas | Year Posted 2007
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