When we grow old
I'll have a record player sitting on the piano
So we can hum tunes and sing little songs
I'll crotchet myself a patched cardigan
and you'll wear your socks with ruffles at the top
I'll plant daisies in the garden
and cut sunflowers for your vase
I'll walk through your parents gallery
and adore every piece of you
If we grow old
YOU ARE READING
head in the clouds
Poetrya collection dump of works i wrote for my creative writing class / in high school (aka not so good writings but i wanted to share them anyways)
