You have summer in your heart,
And so much spring in your life,
That sometimes I wonder,
If you've ever even seen ice,
The wonders of the snow,
When you don't fear the cold,
When your heart is as chilly,
As a frozen winter's stone,
But maybe you've learnt,
To see the pretty flakes,
To brush the snow off,
From the freckles of your face,
And maybe you've moved on,
To a sunnier and bright place,
When you can sing aloud,
Without being disgraced,
And maybe now you walk,
With a spring in your step,
Not worrying about the rain,
But enjoying the dew instead.
YOU ARE READING
Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
