Lauren, Age 14, USA

As I walk the dog, a cold wind blows,
It flaps my coat, my hair, my clothes,

I watch it rustle the tops of every tree,
I feel it whistle and fly all around me,

I feel it blowing my cold face and hair,
My hair which flies and blows everywhere

I see the trees shudder at each new gust
I force myself to keep walking, I must, I must

I shiver from the cold and begin to run,
Dragging the dog behind me, whose pleasure at this is none,

I run inside the house to escape the windís cruel chill,
It is warm and toasty and the wind is nil.

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