I was bare as a leaf
And I felt the wind on my shoulder.
The trees laughed
When I picked up the sun in my fingers.
The wind was chasing the waves,
Tangling their white curls.
“Willow trees,” I said,
“O willows,
Look at your lake!
Stop laughing at a little girl
Who runs past your feet in the sand!”
By Lake Champlain
Hilda Conkling
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Poem topics: girl, sun, white, shoulder, wind, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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