I Sit, So Still, So calm, So here.
The Stars, They flicker, Far, Yet near.
The Grass, Fresh cut, Smells bad, Pokes skin.
The Night, Not new, Lived here, Has been.
The Sights, So big, So far, So vast.
The Sun, It rises, slow but... fast.
The Dew, Burns up, It's morning, Warm rays.
The Day, Has come, For now, I'll stay.
Children, Call out, They laugh, They play.
And on, This field, For now, I'll lay.
YOU ARE READING
A Glance Into My Mind
PoesíaPoetry i have written at the proverbial best of times, and worst of times. This should give all who care a small but enticing look into the mind of one depressed and wistful sophmore.
