Jacaranda
By Angie K
The wind rustles through its leaves,
They are made to be seen,
Their flowers sing with purple,
They glitter in a circle,
They tower up above our heads,
(But some are nearly dead)
The wind rustles through its leaves,
They are made to be seen,
Their flowers sing with purple,
They glitter in a circle,
They tower up above our heads,
(But some are nearly dead)