The ball keeps flying
The flowers are dying
On its chain
Lacking rain
Dead, dried up
Still swinging
Crushed, smushed
Still swinging
Petals leaves falling off
Still swinging
Even though we've had enough
That ball
Is
Still swinging
And swinging
And swinging
And swinging
And it won't stop
Not yet
There's too much
Good
Left
YOU ARE READING
things from english class....
Poetryummm stuff i wrote in english...i find in my journal
