I will never be able to scratch the dirt out of my nails
Hay will forever be stuck in my hair
Barns will always have my favorite smell
Bruises will always line my legs
Gardens will be towed
A season will come around
When I will not be able to resist the urge to hay
Horses will feel like humans
Cows mouths will always be soft
And I will never be able to smell a peony without thinking of home
YOU ARE READING
Fade
PoetryWe're all just fading away... drifting apart... never to see each other as a whole...
