Works written by students during the Creative Writing Studies.
His pitch was low, filled with rage
What's there to see?
Have you ever been a fraud?
One evening, a strange woman came,
My willow, don't u see,
She came without knocking – as strange women do,
I'm happy that I don't see dreams
Once a loud man, with his pitch so high,
She threads the open field,
Do you want to go look at the waste ground?
A strange woman said nothing
Without knocking or with,
Not mine.
