"I only like the world after the skies have opened"
We sank into the dirt,
Making fun of the clouds that couldn't quite make it over the hills,
But they make a good story.
Telling me that your favourite flower blooms a week before your birthday,
How special that makes you feel.
In this afternoon rain, clearing (to return?),
We're melting again.
So stop and stare, kid.
Your infulences are hanging low on mountain tops,
And might not be seen for a while.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment