Poetry from Eighth grade

As the smell of fresh rainfall made it to my nose I could hear thunder rumbling a little ways away. With the sight of lightning soon after. I started to feel the fresh, cool, and wet drops of rain hit my skin.

The Powerful quite moon marry the wild night as it watches the helplessly lonely lake.

I obtained an old powerful wild west film. As a rough mountain man cowboy stepped onto the scene with a raspy voice he looked like he had a straight as an arrow mind.