On The Way Home…

I met a girl called Summer.

She wore bright colored cloves which shone in the sunlight

And had great pointy talons which seird the air.

She spoke with a soft voice 

Which was as flat as paper.

I met a boy called Thunder.

He wore dark miserabile clothes 

And roared with anger when someone happy walked past.

I met a woman called Roses.

She wore lipstick as bright as roses

And had clothes as red as a tomato.