The wind

I can get through a doorway,
Without any key, and strip the leaves,
From the great oak tree.
I can drive storm-clouds and shake,
Tall towers, or steal through a garden,
And not wake the flowers.
Seeds I can move and ships I can sink,
I can carry a house-top or
the scent of a pink.
When I am angry, I can rave,
And riot and when I am spent,
I'll lie quiet as quiet.

Thimashi Uththara Medagedara,
Grade 5,
JMC College International,
Nittambuwa.