The weather is sweet and warm, like the hot cross bun I had toasted this morning.
The drifting scent of wildflowers is close,
As the harmony of singing birds quietly calling.
Your fingers in mine, we face our meadow
Of enraptured youth and innocence.
As the breeze sings swiftly through the flowering grass
And together, happily - we listen.
YEAH SPRING✊🌸
YOU ARE READING
Poems for the Brave
PoetryThese poems are for those of us who need to be brave:) ***An autobiography through poetry***
