A Storm is coming

Make sure you survive this one.

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As I look outside the window,

I peek into my world inside,

which can be a green spring leaf,

or a dry winter withered one,

eyeing the spring, as it craves for relief.

The thoughts that articulate,

are like the air you feel,

not see, but touch,

you can leave or clutch.

The air moves around,

with a whispering sound,

“Let the leaves feel my touch, my caressing hand,

OR I shall summon my forces, and be the tornado,

that destroys your roots,

before you know much”.

—Pun…

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