Breathing the summer air,
My mind drifts away.
Endless possibilities here and there,
But I prefer to stay.
In the place I spent my life.
With those who stuck by me.
Change cuts like a knife,
But I have memories of what we used to be.
Through all the seasons,
We lived our lives with a fine toothed comb.
For so many reasons,
This is my home.
YOU ARE READING
That Poetry Book
PoesiaThis book is a compilation of all original poetry written by me (unless otherwise stated). The poems inside range from love to nature to sports, and everything in between. I'm going to try to incorporate as many genres as possible. This is the firs...
