The wind was taunting the leaves as they shivered in their designated positions. The sky peered through the treetops in strewn segments, never showing its full self.
I walked down the path that was filled with invisible stories, my head seeking warmth in a scarf from my grandmother.
Despite the fact that it was noon, only a paltry amount of light reached my surrondings.
That is my attempt at poet's prose, how did I do? I guess that stuff isn't expected from a stick thin girl in skinny jeans and high tops.