debbiebwolfe
I see the discontent among the crowd, he fails to influence us his way.
The house rose above the crashing waves, teetering in the gale force winds. The category five stormed knocked the old house off the once sturdy stilts.
She wore a scarlet scarf, draped across her slender neck. It was silk and had belonged to her mother. Her eyes misted at the memory of her mother's long, silky hair fluttering in the sea breeze, the red scarf trailing behind.
The shell on the shores of the great lake are small, pearl, and pink. The wind blows the icy wind and shells wash up from underneath.