A poem she wrote.
Rain comes down, and I feel okay.
The wind blows, the trees sway.
Having fun is what I'm good at.
For it do please call me a prat.
Oh, the smell of wet grass.
I can't sit down, coz I'll get a wet arse.
Leaves fall lightly on my head.
Oh, this is better than being in bed.
I could just stay here all day.
Please believe me when I say.
I want to be buried in this appear.
Nowhere else. Not there. Here.
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