Storm.

The sound of your continual fall

A soft cotton ball
The feel of no control
Lost in a tumble roll
Sliding down the highest peak
The end of a swans beak
On the edge of the last sunset
Melting all the old snow
Creating a green glow
Something so peaceful
You are so cold and grey
Renewing old to day
The break of light
You never stop
You are a continual drop
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