Small, black move flying machines Gently landing in the white terrain, hanging nature’s soothing silence In determine to communicate with each other, Necessary for their survival. My journey ends, Bidding adieu to the aging giants, The cold powder, the peaceful and subtle log, The settling orange tree sun, and the flying machines. Finally saying good by to nature herself, At peace forever. Bi...If you want to get a estimable essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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