(Shash, 11, writes an intriguing poem about the time when one gets soaked in heavy rain)
As it pours on my face,
It shimmers slyly,
As slyly as a fox.You never know,
When it may start dripping,
From the high clouds above,
As it thunders and booms,
As if it is an angry God,
Louder than a lion’s roar,
The book you are reading,
Suddenly becomes damp.You run and run,
But you still get wet,
Your shoes,
Your socks,
Shirt,
Trousers,
are all soaked to their death.A storm’s churning up there,
You know it well,
The umbrella you take out,
Gets scared; blows away,
As lightly as a feather,
Surfing in the breeze,
Alas you reach home,
Dripping, soaking, drying, changing, blowing, heavy breathing,
The next thing you know,
You’re in bed,
Fast asleep.
Plz read
I loved your poem
keep writing!!!!!!!!!!
A very true poem
And very good too
It’s SO not fun getting drenched in,
The rain from a sky that’s not blue
Keep it up