The wind
The wind comes the wind goes
It disappears as the wind passes by
It can be soft it can be hard
It can be icy it can be hot
No matter what type it is, it is still wind.
Floating down
Patches of black appear on the spotlight of the stage
Quivering like helicopters
The wind blows by and it twirls around and around
It’s veiny and silky tattered in rips
It’s dark and light
Guess what I am?!
beautiful francesca!
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