state of grace (acoustic version), ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ, 01.13
the clouds are high, the sky is fair,
so is the breeze of this crisp midday air.
september looms with autumn not far behind;
a year passed the sadness I once did find.
my shoes are black, my skirt is green,
so are the fields these eyes have seen.
at peace amidst new friends and old foes,
this i write with a book in my pocket (but nobody knows).
third year freshman, ninth grade little woman,
who walked the road less taken, and now she runs.
new love, new soul, new mind, new heart,
crestfallen but true, once more I'll start.
YOU ARE READING
[14] - monday's child.
Poetry𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘴. original poetry i wrote at fourteen.