Slam on climate change
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My Grandpa saw the stars at night. They twinkled brilliantly bright. My Dad saw less stars in his youth. He never questioned his truth. I stare up at our night sky and see How many stars? Two? Three?
3:46 a.m. on a post-rain Kansas Monday. I try to wash away the sleepiness from my insomnia laden eyes, pick a fresh sheet of paper spread clean it almost sheens,
Take advantage while you can. Go up to a tree and touch its thick bark. Twently years or less they'll all be gone. We'll soon forget what it was like to breath fresh crisp morning air.
As the wind it flew, I knew my feelings would make it through Yet, I hid for you, I always look to your side Those pure eyes you have, they send signals in me that i thought i would never see
The Earth is our mother and we have disrespected her It is no surprise that we are we punshed for our behavior.