The air was sticky
Like I could hold out my hand
And it would stick to the bottom
I believed it would
And so it did
The ground was mushy
Like over watered seeds
Cared for by a hopeful boy
That only wanted the best for it
The sky was a minty shade of blue
Full of itself
From being admired
By the red haired girl
Across the street
Everything had a past
Everyone had a future
But no one ever worried about it
Now
People hide away their past
And sure, everyone has a future
But no one can stop worrying
So what is there to do?
I can not say, without criticism
Because the things I've said
Have already been pondered
Therefore am I worthy
Of finding solutions
If I can not put them into action?
YOU ARE READING
A Few Poems
PoetryHey, I'm glad you're viewing my poems. I'm learning to love each and every one if them, so I hope you do too. I always appreciate how you interpret this little collection of words, so please comment or message or whatever works.
