I can touch the clouds
Walk along the tree tops
Meld with the decaying leaves upon the ground
Browns
Reds
Yellows
Oranges
Change to white snowflakes or glazing ice
A sheet to skate across
Pinks of cherry blossoms
Red of roses
I can touch the clouds and walk along the tree tops
Meld with the changes and cycles of life
YOU ARE READING
Fuck You, Nicely
PoetryOne finding themselves, ups and downs; streams of melancholy and yearning of the heart. Contains time stamps of a life that seem to fade too fast and rants through life lessons I often forget. There might be some triggers with eating and just mental...
