Write what you see.

Crooked branches are flying and we run and scream.
The trees are all angry
as if it was me.

We run to our bedroom,
and hide in the blankets.
We start telling ghost stories,
and saw we had secrets.

We peaked out the window,
while the trees walked around.
The bark had descriptions,
and the leaves made a sound.

I looked back at you.
You smiled at me.
You said to pick up the guitar,
and write what I see.

Reviews

[Me]

superbly penned piece

[Mauricio Montoya]

I heard that.

[roarke]

Bingo.