(A ballad. I must say, I hate ballads. Hate them. Never again.) (Watch me become a ballad writer...)
Rain drops pit pat on roof, waving
flowers, a steady drum beat,
a band of trees shaking in wind,
upset at the heating
of a Great Sun, misbehaving
children tossing some sweets
into air, daisies falling blind,
torn apart by cheating
hands, left alone, darkness caving
in, clouds hiding the wheat
miles away, midnight moon twined
in fog in moment's fleet.
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